You get out of depth with life when you can’t see the radiance in your child’s face, when you cannot handle the energy that a morning holds. I doodled this sketch at work as I thought of the woman who lives in the flat above mine. I have not met her and I will not recogise her voice if she strikes a polite conversation with me. I can recognise only her quivering voice as it reaches high decibles. I hear her hysterically screaming at her young son who is too much energy for her to handle. There is so much of pain in her hysteria and much more pain in the child who stands helpless in this relationship.