I once hated the gift. The gift made me very ill a year ago. I felt a mountainous rage when nothing came about as I held the pencil. For many months, I sat down on the floor facing my sketchbook. I was running out of time. For months the sketchbook remained white. I tried to put lines and shades to it but it remained clean and white. I hated it clean and white. I sharpened my pencil again and again. I erased and erased. Still clean and white......
But never do I want to destroy this gift nor do I want it to fall to the side. I did it many times in the past. Will I do it again?
It is late now... I am staring at my new sketchbook. Still, nothing new is coming about. Clean and white.
But never do I want to destroy this gift nor do I want it to fall to the side. I did it many times in the past. Will I do it again?
It is late now... I am staring at my new sketchbook. Still, nothing new is coming about. Clean and white.
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