Tunu and Her Sketchbook

Since morning Tunu has been feeling restless. She can’t concentrate on anything. She wants to do something, she decides to do something, and then, no, not annoyance, but a kind of dislike raises its head. For example, she wanted to draw a picture or room a tune.
To think was to act. In a moment she sat down with a piece of paper, her brush and her colours. But after one or two strokes of her brush and one or two scrawls of her pencil she threw everything away and got up. She knew what she was going to draw but she thought, well, it can wait, I’ll do it later. Let me rather sing. But even before she could bring out a single sound from her throat she gave up and went out to the balcony. She stood there and gazed at the sky with a faraway look in her eyes.
Those who were watching her er all this time said, well, what’s the matter with you, Tunu? You started to draw and then get up without finishing it. Why?