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I have just realized that I am really enamoured with the idea of contrast.
Dark and light. Hot and cold. Beauty and ugliness. Love and hate. Pleasure and pain.
Going back over my last couple of sketchpads, the ideas--the drawings that really jump out at me--all seem to deal with some kind of horrible terrifying experience happening to beautiful people. (Because, of course, in all the stories, only the good people are beautiful.)
A girl who the forest fell in love with, and whose thorns and brambles trapped her while she slept.
The man, abandoned and forgotten in a dry well for seven years, whose only solace comes from the shaft of sunlight which reaches the bottom of the well each day at noon.
The story--I'll never finish it, I think--of the emotional prototypes, Sorrow and Joy. Brother and sister, hunted and feared and hated for what they cannot control.
Apple dreaming of fish, of course.
Hehn.

They changed my medication.
It seems to be working so far. I just hope there aren't any side effects like last time. The nausea spells are supposed to be normal for the first two weeks.
ICK.