In anger I lashed out at the page, I needed the hug of the charcoal on paper - I never thought I'd hear my self say that. The abandonment of life drawing has finally caught up with me, the charcoal is haunting my thoughts, sneaking in with its lustful desires, calling and tempting me with its sensuality. My person and my business collided, I felt the anger and frustration well up - I decided to drown it in the paper and the charcoal; satisfyingly building the piles of dust on the pages as I scratched out the work.

I looked and felt like the collision was missing from the work - then I saw it - the devastation on the page, black smears tainting the pristine surface, fingerprints and smudged edges, dust and layers colliding with the white expanse. The collision happened both physically and mentally, the lines collided on the page, the thoughts collided in my head, my fingers collided with the charcoal and the page. The devastation was satisfying, the aftermath was beautiful.