neocolonial malcontent chic<p>For a long time, I'd forgotten how deeply pleasurable the discipline is of writing with pen (a classic black gel ink pen for me, I have no patience for beautiful and fussy fountain pens) on paper.</p><p>It also helps that I'd worked intentionally on reworking my handwriting in 2020 and am happy with what it is now. It's not vastly different from what it used to be. Maybe it was a trauma response due to it being 2020 and losing my father shortly before the COVID-19 outbreak in India, but I'd thought that I needed a change. Maybe I was being perfectionistic as always.</p><p>But I look at the pages of my diary now and, although I'm often anxious that my hand is being unsteady and unmotivated during writing, I feel assured of it all falling into place eventually. I feel marginally more confident in my own identity as an artist. Feeling that my circumstances since 2020, despite the excruciating emotional stress I'm still under, have only managed to distill me into a stronger and more poised, more real, me.</p><p><a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/RetreatPosting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>RetreatPosting</span></a> 🌘<br><a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/Handwriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Handwriting</span></a></p>