this is why…

For four years, I had a friend at work who wrote sad and beautiful stories and taught himself to draw.  We talked about the creative life and he began to ask me why I no longer wrote or painted as I had done when I was younger.  He used to catch me out looking at beautiful textiles and quilts on the work computer and ask me when I would start making a quilt instead of just dreaming about it. No quilt eventuated. I am a procrastinator.  After a while, whenever we met he would greet me with a cheeky grin and ask: “Where’s my quilt?”

A year ago this week my friend died. He was 31 years old.

So here I am, writing this blog about doing, not dreaming. I think it would make him smile.


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