While I was making the lines really slowly, I got that sweet feeling again. It is a feeling that only comes up when I know it is going to work out fine. Everything on that moment falls into place. The notion of time disappears. The combination was just right. The semi-transparent white lines with exactly the right stroke width, the amount of space between the lines and the darker background all worked together beautifully.
And then I got too confident.
I wanted to add some minor imperfections. So after pushing the marker firmly on a piece of paper to get the ink flowing, I swiped the marker back and forth above the painting. Some spatters appeared. And then the whole tip got loose and landed on the painting. I cursed. This was not what I had in mind.
And it got worse. Later on, when the marker ran empty on ink and I wanted to force the last bit out, I pushed the marker a few times too many. The ink gushed out. Causing the ink to drip.
This was also not what I had in mind.
But I decided to continue anyway. I could always cover the painting with a new layer of paint when I felt like it.