What is mysterious? The fridge lights, a magician’s tricks and tales of a three-headed beast.

What is clear? Clean widows, the first glimpse of blue in the morning and the half-full part of your glass.

What is gentle? My dog’s nose nudging my leg and the silent falling of a leaf.

What is rough? Harsh words spoken aloud and the bumpy feel of rocks under your hand.

What is hard? Frozen cookie dough ice cream and walking through endless fields while the sun beats down on your back.

What is soft? My dog’s ears, the sunlight glowing in the evening and a Victoria sponge cake with jam as red as blood.

What is quick? Time when you are playing games with your family, a falling asteroid and the silence between the click of a switch and the light turning on.

What is slow? An ants journey home, traffic jams on motorways and the pages turning when you read a good book.

I want to paint

I want to paint the frustration as Baxter barks at the non-existent delivery driver.

I want to paint the sleeping sloth silently snoring as the sun sets slowly.

I want to paint a rabbit gazing up at the twinkling stars and the shimmering moon.

I want to paint a snake curling around someone’s neck, slowly sucking the life out of them.

I want to paint an empty chair waiting patiently for someone to sit in it.

I want to paint someone trying desperately to escape their terrifying thoughts.

I want to paint every click of the typewriter as a new novel is made.

I want to paint the places where the lost people go, a place they cannot leave.

I want to paint loss, hope and regret and turn it into joy.