Just wiped an entire post which had taken ten minutes to type up including a lengthy quotation about the origins of drawing from Tanya Kovats' The Drawing Book, a couple of sentences from In Praise of Shadows and was to conclude with - this is when I must have inadvertently hit a key as I got up to find the volume - a few lines from Stevens' 'The Snow Man' ("And, nothing himself, beholds/ Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is") .

This white screen that - unlike a page or Freud's mystic writing pad - preserves no trace of the writing that preceded. Those effaced words will just have to speak in their absence.

Oddly appropriate, I suppose.