Review–The Weight of Zero by Karen Fortunati

On A Mission to Read


Debut author Karen Fortunati has released a beautiful book into the world with The Weight of Zero. Catherine, the main character of the book, is living with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. So far for Catherine, she has had two manic episodes as well as a depressive episode in which she attempted suicide.

For Catherine, she has this fear that the great Zero, that low and dark depression will return. She attends therapy, takes medication, and begins an intensive outpatient program. Despite doing all of the so-called right things, she has the persistent fear that Zero will return, and she prepares herself for it. She creates a plan of one thing to do before that day comes, and she initially sets out to achieve it.

For Catherine, she deals with the loss of friends from her diagnosis, but for the first time since that happened, she is beginning to…

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 ~Walking Away~With My Wierdness intact~


Morning Mist


Morning Mist Morning Mist

These mornings are deceptively cold. The warm sky colours of dawn has the landscape glowing. In the woods an icy blue mist sits on the pond.

This week instead of colours and the application of paint I will say a little about the planning and design in this painting. As usual this starts as a general plan which is constantly changing as the painting progresses. The under colours, opposite of the final colours, mark out the general shapes.

From the start the open gate was going to be the entrance into this scene. I was manipulating the sky shapes to subtly lead the eye into the opening. See how many lines of colour point the way through this open gate. Foreground plough ridges and pathway also lead the eye in. In the sky I was also trying to keep warm and cool colours playing against each other without a noticeable divide…

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Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare



tumblr_n2wno6df5c1rptr74o1_1280BRENÉ BROWN