This one happened without meaning to. There I was, a few years younger, writing a poem away with the fairies and I got a phone call that involved arguing ending in a spectacular shouting match. Not ideal, but I guess one taps into moments without realising. I was at my table, there was ink, there was paint, there was anger, a feeling like any other. There is nothing wrong with facing any feeling, in my experience, it helps one more than to not face them at all. In fact, anger has got me out of some pretty sticky situations in the past.
BB Nielsen (c) 2007
The two shades of white are both people involved, my voice has a hint of blue, tallking over each other, black ink fuzz works well for referencing loud spots. And underneath it all, the broken poem.
It reminds me that you live... And you (try to) learn!