There is something purely captivating about a fresh start, some alluring factor - perhaps an invisible magnetic force - drawing you closer to a blank sheet of paper. It's letter size, rectangular, and perfectly fresh; thin and infused with warmth from the printer it had just slipped out of. A creamy ivory colour spreads over its face, blank and unmarred by any graphite marks, clear space for you to start your work on. A world for you to imagine upon with grubby fingers and dirt streaks, with ink pens and ballpoint, lies on the clean sheet, a spinning globe of your own creation.
Is water blue, is grass green? Do trees stand upright, or do their roots extend inside wisp white clouds? It's a universe of creation, of Cheshire Cats and tell-tale hearts, all within a single sheet of letter-sized paper and the marks spilling from the tip of a #2 pencil.