looking forward with a backward glance
following the black dog along memory trails of yesteryear
the bare branches beckon to the cold, dark season: come come your time is now
|the overwhelming joy at finding your lover within arm's reach; new lovers discovering each other's bodies|
|no I have not forgotten our Tungsten, he died yesterday a year ago; time flies whether or not you're having fun, I wish I'd made more sketches of him - I didn't because I thought I couldn't draw, now I think that the latter doesn't matter, the drawing itself helps you to observe better and that matters not the result|
you did. Tungsten.
who is the new woman?
i missed all that.....eeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So yeah, I pretty much think I can't draw. But I want to, even so. And reading what you have to say, that it is the act of drawing rather than the end product, I believe I will try again.
" i thought " i couldn't
en zo beperken we ons ZELF
het tekenen doet HET
jij weet het
I'm glad you draw.
I not only missed the new lady, but so much more, sigh.