Scrambled Head

So I'm at a school art exhibition, looking at a portrait of myself. The top of the head has been sliced off like a boiled egg, but instead of an escaping yoke, there's an outpouring of words, rushing out of that cranium. No wonder why the facial expression is a little pensive. And when I get closer, I find that the words are all mine, chopped and spliced from a series of old articles and interviews.

The artist who came up with the plan is my eldest daughter. Apparently she was inspired by an Australian called Anna Higgie. There's some text to accompany the illustration, which states that writing is my occupation and that very often I am removed from the day-to-day world.

Which is probably accurate, but also a little disconcerting to think that those many words are also taking hostage of my mindfulness, removing me from family time and present time. Note to self: make the effort to be here, more often.