Blue, cyano, white. A bit of yellow. That’s pale green. And then all over again.
Seven years ago, I drew a little croissant and a fork plunged into it on canvas. Then, I abandoned it. For years it’s been there, among the magazines I wrote for and the books I still have to read. Yesterday, I surprised myself thinking “The day’s come to finish what I’ve started”. And I’ve done it. I’ve searched for my acrylics and the brushes, I’ve set the palette, I’ve started painting. It was midnight. My mum has looked at me, still in her nightdress, and she’s said: “You’re completely fool”, which is actually true. I’ve carried on painting until 2 am. Then, I’ve washed the colours out of the palette, I’ve washed my hands and looked at the almost finished plunged-into-heart brioche. Seven years to complete it, but now I’m really satisfied. So it’s true: the time always comes to complete what you’ve once thought of. Sometimes it’s a matter of a couple of days, sometimes it’s a matter of years, but the time will come. Now, my hands are green with acrylics and I’m sleepy but it doesn’t matter. I’ve finished what I’ve started. That is always a good way to spend your days.