The brush barely touches the fabric , the stain of color penetrating into the fibers uniting as one. I stop myself from adding any more paint or water. I have a feeling of impatience brewing inside me, to go down this road again I need to have patience with the work, with the materials. Knowing I can’t stitch as fast as I paint, knowing I must let the paint dry between layers. This is what it must feel like to be a race horse at the start of a race, a wild animal in a cage. I want to work more, faster, finish something. But That’s not how it is now. I need to bring my meditative mind into my studio.