watercolour and ink on paper

Tiring

Caught out again but in a completely different way to yesterday.  Again I didn't manage to do the bits I had thought at the end of yesterday that need doing, but this time it was because my day was full-ish.  There is room for being more organised, but always being busy is nice.  And tiring.

There have been spaces iny day which I have not found before, but the runny thing is that at the end of the day, as I write this little note about the day, I am thinking of numerous things that I could have done to fill those spaces, numerous things that are not just marking time waiting for a decision, or a change in plan, or a confirmation.  Or a touch.

The story begins with the old man plodding.  Plodding.  He is leaning forward, he is weary.  He may be passing interesting things, a bus, a train, travelling through the city, into the country, we know because we can see the scapes passing by behind the old man, but he doesn't see because he is looking down.  Staring at the ground, not making eye contact, not needing to say anything to anyone, just getting to where he is going.  That is what plodding is.

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Latest Sketches:

Plodding
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