printed paper sculture, 97 x 60 x 15 mm, now destroyed
Recently I sat down to write a story and draw a picture, but nothing seemed to come out right.
My words were empty and the pictures were flat. I was down, I felt upset. I looked sadly at the crumpled scraps of paper on the floor around me,
but I knew that if I just kept trying, something interesting would happen eventually. I picked up the blue pencil - it seemed to suit my mood.
I sharpened and sharpened, enjoying the shavings curling on the floor. The whole thing disappeared. Now there is no more blue pencil, but no
more blues either.
