"Travel light, but take everything with you. No cases full of cuddly toys. No toys, in fact."

These were the terse instructions from my mother as I prepared to pack the contents of my life into one tiny, child-size suitcase, a suitcase barely big enough to accommodate a change of clothes, let alone anything sentimental, useful or practical. What on earth had possessed her to choose such a ridiculous object for such a momentous adventure? I couldn't even begin to think. It was completely unsuitable and my mother was usually such a meticulous woman. Nothing escaped her notice. The house was spotlessly clean. Everything had its place on its shelf and woe betide anyone who moved it. She had trampled many an unsuspecting visitor with her icy stares. I knew not to touch, not to move, and to breathe quietly. Which was why I was struggling so much now. Could I tell her there wasn't enough space? Dare I mention that without the essentials - toothbrush, comb, change of underwear, amongst numerous other things - I wouldn't get far? Or was that the whole point? Was she really going to take me with her? Afterall, she wasn't just packing me up to go on a holiday. We wouldn't be returning in a couple of weeks. This was it, forever. I would never see this house, my father, my brother or my dog again. If I had it correctly. Why me? Why not him? And what was I to do wi

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becsatherton (joined almost 12 years ago)
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I have always loved art and drawing has been an important part of my life ever since I can remember. Having creative parents provided me with the right genes and also meant that my naive dabblings were given plenty of encouragement. Growing up, our kitchen walls were lined with huge pinboards which displayed my work. I guess you could say that this was my first exhibition, my audience consisting of family and friends. To date – apart from school and university, where there was always a termly show – it remains the only one. Life interfered with other priorities and stole away my earlier confidence.
Since graduating, I have been a web designer, a graphic designer, a magazine editor, an art director, a copy writer, a literary consultant, a poet, an aspiring novelist, and many other less inspiring things. I have also founded a literary arts magazine called Inside Out, which published two issues before the recession hit.
For the last year, I have been hard at work writing and drawing and would now call myself a writer, poet, artist and illustrator. I use these mediums as ways to better understand myself and find them helpful in exploring and resolving personal problems. This was the focus of Inside Out, which promoted creativity for personal development and emotional well-being. One day I hope to qualify as a creative therapist, offering workshops and retreats and teaching this valuable skill to other individuals.

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Travel light, but take everything with you.
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