The past is a strange mirror to look into. And sitting here, in the attic surrounded by boxes and old sketchbooks from art college I feel my breath catching a little with memories.
And all that work I did in college? Well, looking at it now, it wasn’t very good. Does everything we do pale and fade into the average when we look back, only the occasional thing really standing out as any good? Or is everything preparation for what is to come, footnotes and experiences on our journey?
But life isn’t about everything being incredible, the highlights wouldn’t be highlights if there was nothing to compare them to. Mostly we go along, quite happily, occasional highs, occasional lows, but mainly somewhere in the middle.
Most of the food I cook is nice enough, nothing spectacular, but then there is the occasional thing that goes into the canon of special…
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