i have this rag i wipe my pastel dust on, just an old cotton cloth i found in a drawer, and months later it's this completely accidental thing, layers of every colour i've used, soft and muddy and somehow beautiful. i nearly washed it last week and then i thought wait. no. that's a record of something.

my partner says it looks like a Rothko if Rothko worked at a garage. i'm not sure about that but i can't throw it away now. it's like a diary i don't know how to read.