Unfolding

The brush feels awkward between my fingers. I’d rather draw dark figures with a charcoal pencil. I’m trained to do that, and it feels effortless.

I see kids handle the brush deftly. Splashes of paint blossom into flowers. Onlookers in the cafe make me self-conscious. I don’t want to fail or look stupid.

The brush bristles along with the surge in my confidence.The long hand of the clock complete circles, and my canvas begins to convey something. A picture emerges unintended, from the folds of the subconscious.

This is how stories are written – to reflect a new reality.

24 thoughts on “Unfolding

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s