Sometimes I want to colour within the lines. At those times, I say give me a colouring book full of professionally penned drawings of exceedingly perfect images the way I either expect to see them or in ways I could never have imagined them myself. I want to participate in fill in the tiny spaces cordoned off by bold dark lines. I bump up against those boundaries outlining and detailing sailing boats, clowns, flowers with the tip of my marker and am content to be confined by those elegant fences and cul de sacs. With already drawn pictures, I know where to stop and start. I shut a part of my brain off and am pleased by the process of giving over of creative control. My task is singular. I fill in the prescribed blank spaces with colours that suit this vision of a fish or a bowl of fruit or a butterfly. I can choose to just see one space at a time and not all the other spaces they are connected to. Sometimes I get an urge to make t...