continuing

a slash of colour, watery, drifting across the paper, then another...

the pencil draws a gently curving line

grey ink, words flowing up on one side, down on the other

more colour, faint

exaggerated letter forms, ascenders rising high through thin winter light

words as lost on the page as they are when spoken on a frigid winter day, frozen in mid-air only to fall back to earth, breaking into pieces and lying strewn on the ground

my sheet is slowly filling, each section adding something different even though the words all come from the same place, repeated over and over in my mind and with the pen until we are one

I love that I no longer have to think what to write... the beauty of repetition, and a single source; the pen touches the paper and the words flow, one tumbling after the other

many strokes are shaky, tentative, still trembling in the newness, unfamiliar

there is a sadness in the knowing that with dedication to a daily practice the hesitancy that creates those shaky lines will eventually be lost and from then I will ceaselessly be trying to recapture it

tape as resist, creates interruptions and interjections... calligraphy following the "rules" of spoken conversation

there is a joy, a freedom, to be found in making a mark as you please, sending a line down when it would go up and vice versa, bending them this way and that

pushing the limits of how far you can take a letter from it's norm and still have it be recognizable, though perhaps not necessarily immediately

it becomes almost a game, one with no rules nor boundaries

there are only four spaces left to be filled on this large sheet of paper and then it gets made into a book, the folding, tearing and folding again creating new combinations and hopefully yet more inspiration

this has been a lovely, thoughtful and methodical way to close out the year and one I have truly enjoyed

wishing you all the best for 2026, and may you also find that which fascinates and inspires you

take care,

jillayne