Yesterday…
1. I finished writing the text for
the first painting of my new series.
It felt like a solid start—a foundation to build on.
2. I realized the text wasn’t actually finished.
Apparently, it had more to say.
3. I changed the title.
Titles always seem easier than they are.
4. I added a short poem.
It felt like the right way to expand the idea.
5. I turned the short poem into a long title.
Because why not experiment?
6. I deleted the title and decided to leave it blank for now.
Sometimes, a blank space holds the most meaning.
7. I restored the short poem to its original form.
It worked better that way, staying true to itself.
8. I noticed a mold spot on the ceiling.
Spain’s heavy rainfalls had left their mark.
9. I went looking for a ladder.
A simple plan to deal with a not-so-simple problem.
10. I remembered the ladder was in the studio.
Of course, it wasn’t where I needed it to be.
11. I decided I was too busy to go to the studio.
The ceiling could wait another day.
12. I grabbed a kitchen stool instead.
It seemed like a reasonable alternative at the time.
13. I fell.
Not exactly part of the plan.
14. I almost broke my right leg.
Pain radiated through me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure how bad it was.
15. I sat there, struggling with pain.
Waiting for the shock to subside, trying to assess the damage.
16. I moved my leg and decided to wait before heading to the hospital.
It didn’t seem broken—just bruised, swollen, and sore.
17. I gave up on going to the studio.
The new series would have to wait.
18. I took some pain pills and slept for an hour.
Rest was all I could manage.
19. I woke up. The pain was still there but felt manageable.
The day wasn’t over yet.
20. I revisited my notes for the new series.
Inspiration doesn’t take breaks, even when the body does.
21. I infused the ladder fall—and its lessons—into the series.
Art has a way of absorbing everything, even accidents.
22. I spent the afternoon in bed, writing.
Quiet moments can be surprisingly productive.
23. I studied for a couple of hours.
Philosophy doesn’t wait, and neither do deadlines.
24. I called a beloved friend who’s also a doctor.
Their reassurance eased my mind.
25. I had dinner: tortellini in brodo.
The comfort food of choice for any Italian in recovery.
26. I sketched some drafts and made notes for the series.
Even in pain, creativity found its way through.
27. I studied a bit more.
Somehow, the day still had room for learning.
28. I jotted down a few great ideas for the series.
Pain sharpens focus—or maybe just the need to distract myself.
29. I took more pain pills.
A practical end to an impractical day.
30. I fell asleep. Some pain lingered, but it had been an extremely creative day.
Life Is Imperfect. Life Is Beautiful.
Some days, chaos and creativity walk hand in hand. Injuries heal, mold gets cleaned, but the ideas born from these moments are what truly linger.