The swan

Sitting on a bench in the hackney marches, I hear the overground in the distance and are surrounded with spring song. It's cold and the weather forecast says: rain in an hour and the whole day through. Misty and grey cotton sky. A man and his dog in the distance and a cold breath on my cheek.

I feel alive and awake.

I got so much anger out last night. 4 drawings in a row. Both new and ingrown anger and then another painting came alive. First red and black building from a furious hand, then becoming green. It turned to slower moments and sadness showed itself in bright red, like drops of blood. I used a harsh brush but it moved elegantly on the paper and the baby appeared. 

Is this a new beginning?