The blank skull – a clean slate

This is how all my skulls begin. White. Void. Empty. Blank. Like a hillside of untouched snow. Just waiting for someone to come along and have some fun and change its face forever.

"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more." Shakespeare, MacBeth

 

This morning I found a blog from an artist who draws mazes. Beautiful. Amazingly intricate work. I found it to be very inspirational. You can look at his work, and read about his journey at http://mazeaday.wordpress.com/.

The Hollow Men ~ T. S. Eliot

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.