Day 40 felt like trying to coax something delicate into existence before I quite had the rhythm for it.
The butterfly wings were always going to rely on two things: colour and precision. And both of those asked more of me than I could do. Mixing orange sounds simple, but it turned into a quiet negotiation of tiny adjustments that never quite landed where I wanted. Not wrong, just not right.
Then came the cutters — fine, intricate, and completely uninterested in being rushed. They demanded patience, a gentle hand, and more Maizena than I thought I’d need. It wasn’t difficult in a loud way, just in that slow, exacting way that reveals every bit of my impatience.
This wasn’t a win, but it wasn’t a failure either. It felt more like a pause. A moment where the gap between what I can see in my head and what I can make with my hands is still there, but getting smaller.
There’s something in this technique worth coming back to. Next time, with better colour and a quieter pace, I think the wings might finally lift.
