My pages started out as an exercise.
Tracing over a torn tissue paper strip and pale patterns I had stenciled. Getting more comfortable as I practiced simple straight and curved lines. First with a pencil and then with a pen concentrating on flow rather than precision. Gessoing it all over and starting again only using my pen.
Next text from an old book on my work desk appeared on the page followed by more paint, some stamped text and a TAP transfer on a piece of paper towel of an acrylic painting I had done over a year ago and tucked in my journal.
A beer bottle top I found in the street, rusted and crushed, in the shape of a heart and flowers punched from the rest of the book page on my desk became garlands and I added more washes of color and ink.
As I looked at my pages when I returned from my walk I was surprised where they had taken me.
I had been lost in thought.