Writing, Drawing, Reading

Avenida Sofia, table de chevet

I miss seeing my drawing upfront on this page. The photographs now strike me as impersonal. Perhaps a phase. Unsure how many drawings I have. Of course there is always more to draw and sketch and I do. Sketchy–funny word now isn’t it? Thinking of how all these activities listed above are observational, inspirational, meditative, and can be very playful. This drawing is of a nightstand in Sitges, Spain, decades ago. Well-loved books I carried around the world with me (the book held together by black tape is E. E. Cummings’ Collected Poems), a lamp, a photograph, a letter opener, and am wondering what that cupcake-looking object is. I had the drawing in a smaller frame for a long time, which caused the discoloration. I like to look at it. I may color it. It feels alive to me–as if it is moving and breathing–in the way writing, drawing and reading make me feel deeply alive. They give me the calm of a great inner vitality.

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