It’s April 6th, 2015 and I have a blank sheet of paper staring back at me. Little watercolor paint blocks are neatly arranged in a ceramic holder. Brushes are resting on top of a tumbler filled to the brim with water. I haven’t been in this situation for a while. My mind is racing. What should I do? What colors do I use? What story do I want to tell? Start with home, I tell myself. I swipe a swirl of blue from one edge to another. The Thames. Yellow washes the paper, getting richer and darker near my neighborhood in East London. The radiant energy pulses from where I’m metaphorically sitting on the paper. A dot marks the spot, because why not? My first painting is complete.