Last week, I was at the market and passed by some hydrangeas on a stand. I was with my mom, and while she gathered things, I tried to keep my sister distracted, but my eyes remained on the flowers. I started to imagine them growing, taking over the stand, sweet-scented tentacles growing and surrounding other flowers, embracing them. And then I another image came to my mind, the image of Medusa's hair made of snakes, of how they moved like tentacles. My mind was off the flowers, and I moved it to something else. Still, somehow, in the next few days, those two ideas ran into each other in my mind over and over again. I kept picturing Caravaggio's Medusa and replacing the hair with flowers, with the hydrangeas I'd seen. So I wrote it down. Yesterday, I actually drew the scheme for the photo, and what came out was something so much lighter, so much more... pink. And the darkness sort of faded away. This turned from a picture of despair, of insanity, into a girl with an uncontrollable mane made of flowers. And I sort of love it, because that is so much more like me than that darkness ever was.