Insomnia gets me at 2.30 in the early hours and I take myself downstairs to my (temporary) desk. Picking up a journal spread I began earlier in the week I can only doodle, nowhere to go, no energy to put into my drawing – and that’s OK, this is what I need right now, this is what I am doing. It is strangely liberating to just doodle, no effort involved, just my hand moving across the page – the only decision to be made is the colour of the pen. Afterwards, I notice this emerging black hole which mirrors, I think, the depression and exhaustion just below the surface. This leaving here, finding a place to go has been hugely stressful. insomniaIn the middle of it all I have had an outbreak of excema which has just added to the stress. Right now I dream of walking along the promenade in Puerto Polenza, smelling the salt air of the ocean and the orange blossom carried on the breeze. Where do you go when nothing can lift you out of exhaustion and even sleep eludes you? Nature, the sky, the wind, burying my face in wallflowers! I go on/I can’t go on. Repeat.

a black hole opening..

insomnia markmaking