I have an A4 sketchbook next to my bed. It has one of my favourite pens clipped to it, and a couple of times a week, I grab it to make a doodle in it.

The moment I grab my pen and uncap it, something happens in me. I become still. I doodle, each line a breath, and the more I scribble, the more I become me.

Doodling isn’t making art.

Doodling is play.

Doodling is stillness.

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