Saturday was a glorious day. It was fresh and warm (er than it had been in a long time, at least) and beautifully sunny. People were out in the quad, drawing and playing music, singing, being young and gorgeous and alive. The whole world was young and gorgeous alive.
Then came Sunday. I woke up to white and black and grey, snow swirling heavily outside my window.
I was... a little bit despairing.
And craving colour.
So I went to the art store and dropped a significant amount of money on art supplies: a new sketchbook/journal (I love journaling on unlined pages) and 7 gorgeous shades of art pen.
And I drew pictures of flowers.
And felt infinite (ly better).