I remind myself sometimes of the certain type of blankness hidden thoughts and meanings suggested white hinted at, the monstrous lack of another's lettered instructions not left behind carefully hiding what to do
when facing this individually tailored crisis.
Sometimes a story begins to invade, to unwind from hesitant, fearful fingers embarrassed to be pushing into peaceful white. The space, eerily free, eerily blank just needs a good kick in the ass to get myself started.
Without the guidance of precedence the mistakes are my responsibility. My only hope that thy will be good.