I have great admiration and interest in doers. I am no doer. I do not move and shake. People who are selfless enough to contribute to the greater good or selfish enough to lock themselves away and create marvelous things are equal and adored in my eyes.
Today, making colourful chains of paper, I was reminded of how much I do not enjoy making things. I have no patience. It bores and annoys me. I become sullen and sour.
Is my love of intricatly drawn pictures only strong because I know I would go mad myself trying to draw one? Love inspired by envy?
I made small, drawn decorations and the other lady made large straightforward ones. There is rather a lot more of hers than mine and hers look better (I am still fond of mine) - pictures tomorrow evening :)
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