I feel a swelling of something, I start to fiddle with my hands, or touch my face in an anxious fashion. I notice it. I feel ashamed. I loose focus on whatever is in front of me. I feel a sense of hopelessness, of nothingness that just feels like I am broken inside.


Committing is usually something that requires effort. A decision to stick by something, to stick to it. I am committed to my desk chair most days, much rather a sun lounger, or a lush patch of grass. Alas, to give to my profession I have to commit to a chair. My bottom commits far more readily to a chair than my mind to my work.


Psychological concepts can take physical form.

Good interior design is based on feelings manifest into furniture, into seats, and chairs. Tables that hold conversations, doors that open into new rooms of opportunity, windows that frame a vast expansive view. Physical form can create psychological concepts.

Like all things physical, they have mass. Weight. A presence that you can touch, and feel.


Composition is defined as:

  • the nature of something's ingredients or constituents; the way in which a whole or mixture is made up.

  • a creative work, especially a poem or piece of music

Composure. The ability to pull oneself together. To control oneself. Be composed. Be controlled. Does that mean we do creative work on ourselves? Do we creatively pull ourselves together? Occasionally rearrange our ingredients to make up a new whole. Or do we create order? Control the way in which we are made up.

We create ourselves. We control ourselves.

Creation is a form of expression. Control is a form of suppression.

What composition do we compose? Which composure of our composition do we create?

I think I am scared to write. I am not sure what it is. I can write constructively and make lists, but it doesn’t match my internal yearning.

I feel fuzzy. I feel a swell of low mood. A low swell, shallow in my stomach.

On occasion when I try and write my mind goes this familiar fuzzy