I'm currently listening to Gnossiene no. 1 by Erik Satie, and it's eeriness is a wonderful accompaniment to the howling winds outside. Howling winds bringing blankets of snow that I will likely have to get up early for and shovel off of people's driveways. Good thing I like shoveling. It's therapeutic, you know?

I have to say I disagree with your views on karma Jack. I'm sure she's not a bitch - I think of her as more of an impassive, fair and impartial judge, with wise eyes and a tired mouth.

Anyways, in my opinion, karma is not really give and take, eye for an eye, or tit for tat. It's not about the equivalence of negative and positive actions on a personal, immediate scale -not about retribution.

It's the ultimate totality of one's actions. A ledger of sorts. Eventually we will face respective consequences for our actions, whether good or bad, but not necessarily in this life. A grand total in which negativity outweighs positive could result in you being born as a goat in your next life. Or at least according to Buddhist philosophy.

So I'm in love winter right now. I have this picture in my mind from the weekend, let me try and paint it for you.

A warmish day, the sun is surprisingly strong, at least from the safety of my doorstep. I am sitting outside with a mug of green tea and my sketchbook - the evaporation is condensing on my glasses and the world is suddenly frosted and flat.

The road is randomly streaked with light here and there, as the sunlight reflects glaringly bright off of patches of melting ice. There is so much light, it's flooding in everywhere, the sky is absolutely cloudless and flat, although my limited view is obscured by tangles of tree branches.

Their bark looks like dry skin.

There is a cast iron pot type thing, meant for flowers. It's a lovely charcoal black, and the contrast created by this busy white light is just breathtaking, the lines are so clear, the shadows sharp and crisp. I simply must draw it.

Behind it, a drop of water falls every minute or so. I watch it slowly well up in the seam of the eavestrough, gleaming like unshed tears, then suddenly pitch towards the earth. Here comes the moment of impact, the downward force is reversed and the drop explodes upwards into little pinpricks of light.

The air is so fresh and clean.

2 hours later, the pot is finished and my fingers are brittle like twigs. Goodbye sunshine!

Disorienting darkness hits me like a slap upside the head as soon as I enter the door. What a summertime feeling, that brief blindness when you come in to relative darkness after being outside.

I will now hopefully be lulled to sleep by the gentle ebbs and flows of Warning Sign by Coldplay.

Goodnight people (Noella and Jack).