Sometimes I wish I were a cartoonist and rendered the mental pictures I have in my mind rather than commit the pictures and images to words. The stories I see in my minds eye lose something once they are on a two dimensional surface in black and white. For instance, this morning I would draw a picture of myself on all fours, clutching a tree limb, each finger almost a part of the tree limb, my arm taunt and sinewy as I cling and balance with my right arm because my left is stretched out towards a large book. But rather than looking up and towards the volume draped open and resting spine side up on the branch; I am looking over my left arm towards the ground. The landscape is drawn in miniature and adds dramatic tension to my tenuous predicament. Tiny drops of water frame my head symbolizing my anxiety as I am faced with a decision: do I keep crawling towards the book and grasp it in my hand; or do I continue measuring how far the ground is while weighing out the best way to fall from the tree?