'Angelman,' as I call him, is based on an india ink sketch that has been brought to the state you see him through Photoshop Elements.

When I drew him from wherever he came, I mused on 'flowering trees,' extensive roots, connectedness, capillaries of culture, warmth, protection, strength, wisdom, bold love, how hands, our hands, are wands in the world. His hands are his wings. His wings are the sweep of the rooted world and sky. He is gold, like the sun.

I think of William Blake, and visionary art, of mysticism.

My preference is the image that is composed of the India ink drawing finished digitally. I copied his image into a new layer and added filters, coloration, clonings, dimming it from 100% opacity until he spread a translucent web of capillaries and rock colours over my computer screen. Perhaps he is like the gold embedded in the earth. Or a rising sun.

This week I received difficult news, 3 places I submitted work to some months ago said no, my contract where I'm working will end in a week, and my taxes were reassessed with the result that I owe. Sigh. Oh, and my daughter is waffling over whether to spend Saturday here when I cook my family a Thanksgiving dinner.

Today I worked 8½ hours without a lunch break. The world is a glorious place, though sometimes it presents rockfaces to us, and we must climb them.