I like the term inkshedding–it is a little like a throwing off of something, such as a heavy tunic of thoughts that itch and that you’re eager to unload. Or, alternately, an unloading of the mind–leaves all gloriously colorful, just right to be dropped as art on the lawn. They float down and I like to watch how they scatter, what pattern they make and how they crunch underfoot as I explore them.

From *daintee.