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November 6, 2011
I don't even know why I did it. You asked me to do it.

(You didn't really ask me to do it, not seriously)

(I don't think)

(I don't know) 

I'm not sure if you will even remember the conversation. You may think that I am strange (That doesn't often happen, ha, ha).

Now I'm just sitting here with ink stained hands and a scratching feeling that I've done something wrong. Maybe I have.
 
(Maybe I haven't)

It reminded me how much I used to enjoy art. I really do enjoy drifting ink onto a virgin white page.