The brilliant colors of fall leaves. A gust of wind. Rainbows in the grass. Diamonds on the water. All of these stir my soul and create a wonder and a longing C. S. Lewis calls joy.
Since I was little, white pages have never been quite safe from me. Pictures, and later words, had a tendency of spilling across the page - initially done by the accompaniment of tuneless singing.
Once, bored in school, I even experimented with marker-soaked tissues and the desk. Needless to say, that didn't go over too well, though it did result in my being moved up a few grades (I had been put back because I "didn't read French").
Perhaps the joy and wonder always inspired what I did, since I had the tendency to color boldly, initially without care of lines. Gradually I learned to be more careful, and to make and sing (and play) things others would enjoy.
I'm still learning. These pages will hopefully contain the record of the journey, and of my awe at the work of the greatest and first Artist of all.
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