So you know how sometimes when you are working in your visual/art journal, and each stroke of paint you lay on the page feels like torture, and you wonder "will I ever finish this page/book"? That's exactly how I felt about his book. Until today.
Today when I looked at it, I felt goofy with delight for every single page, and I thought to myself how glad I was that I did everything I did in it. I couldn't find a thing I wanted to rip out. What I thought about while I was flipping the pages was just how much fun Mary Ann and I had, that it looked just like free expression, and I wanted to do more stuff exactly like it.
If absence makes the heart grow fonder, surely time and distance quiets that extremely loud-mouthed inner critic. And to that I say AMEN!