it is very blustery outside. the wind hits the walls in a scary way, vibrating as in a flat of the hand against heavy wood. i'm organizing my old art right now, scanning doodles without really looking back or judging. i know enough that time is crucial for pulling meaning from drawings. and anyway, they are a record of a mood. most of the drawings i scanned were from 2017. i went through the wringer that year. my priorities in an image changed somewhat.