In my head I have never stopped creating but after what seems like a hiatus lasting an eternity from making work, I have returned. And I am almost startled to find that the euphoria is familiar, brilliant and almost suffocating. The emotions that I find myself entrenched in are so rich with melancholia and so visceral that I can taste it on my skin. It is like coming home and landing on the ground and I wonder how I have survived without it. It is the magic of life I guess and the satisfaction I have found in distractions (like children and romance and humdrum chaos), but it is truly amazing to now experience such completeness with the simple act of making art.