As I was writing in what has been rather originally named 'Long Book', I did what I always do. Started doodling. With a ballpoint pen on ruled paper.
I returned to the page because half of it was empty. I thought I'd jot down some things. I couldn't. The image would not let me. It isn't anywhere close to art but it speaks to me.
Flames leaping out from the head, leaves from eyes...are the roots embedded deep inside? Or is it the other way round - the leaves trying to enter the eyes? Is that a serpent trailing from the mouth? Is it hissing with relief or victory that it has left its poison inside and is now free of it?
Or it could be a string that was meant to bind but has now been chewed to pulp.
For me this is regeneration. A tiara aflame, leaves fresh and the snake/string on the way out. As for poison, it has a way of killing whatever tries to kill me.
"And the feeling subsides" is written below the drawing. Is it just one feeling? Or the moment? Or the momentary? Does it have anything to do with the image?
Something is cancelled out at the end. I don't know what. If one does not know what one has created, then it probably means nothing to oneself.
The page still has space but I am reluctant to use it. I cannot save paper this time.
Have I managed to save myself?