‘There are no lines in nature, only areas of colour, one against another.’ Edouard Manet
I hate being on edge, hate it, makes me feel like everything grates, like there are needles under the skin, scratching, bleeding hurting…can’t sit still, can’t concentrate, can’t work…just can’t do anything except wallow in the teeth grinding, nausea inducing, heart breaking uselessness of it all.
Except…except when I colour in. Yes, colouring in…that childhood activity involving a drawing, some coloured pencils and a joyful suspension of time and circumstance. There’s something immeasurably comfortable in opening up the colouring book to a brand new, crisp, never before touched picture of a butterfly, just waiting for you to apply imagination and colour.
Perhaps it’s the remembrance of childhood, that innocence, the simplicity. Of course I’m much better at colouring in now than I was back then, hopefully. Maybe it’s the metaphor of ‘staying in the lines’, the careful application of pencil stroke so that you’re close to the edge of the line, but you don’t cross outside, you don’t smudge the paper, you leave a perfectly printed outline with all your colour, all your imagination, all your creativity locked inside those little, dark, printed borders.
Mmm…maybe, but just once I’d like to be brave and colour in like my 5-year-old niece does when she’s feeling particularly giddy; by scribbling all over the page in a haphazard, ad hoc, joyful glee.
Daily Prompt: Activity http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/19/daily-prompt-activity/