Yesterday afternoon, Morrison painted a miniature while I tried to rewrite a tiny part of The Cake for the 900th time. Taking a break from  (READ: PROCRASTINATING) my own task at hand, I watched him swirl tiny paints together with a tiny brush and bring the tiny brush to the tiny face of a tiny person. It felt like he and I were attempting the exact same thing. And so, if it’s a writer’s job to collect similes: trying to rewrite a play that’s already existed for years, without breaking it or changing it entirely, is EXACTLY like painting the Hair onto a fingernail sized person: you must use the tiniest of brush strokes, you must never once question what it is that you are doing.