Somedays I have absolutely nothing to say. But I say it anyway. For the sake of writing something — anything — down.
I open up my journal, if it can be called that, and doodle in it.
Starting first with a few casual strokes of the pen, some simple geometrical shapes; these slowly take on a life of their own; sometimes they take the form of coherent pictures, sometimes they remain as just lines screaming for an identity.