May 12
The girl of my dreams claws desperately at the windows of my soul as I impose her will onto canvas, the only time she is free and seen and heard. The only time she is known. I am her chisel; she is my hammer. Necessity is the artist.
I saw a picture someone drew and it made me think when I draw a woman WHO IS SHE? WHO AM I DRAWING? WHY DO I FEEL SO COMPELLED TO EXTRACT HER IMAGE FROM MY MIND??
Probably because she is all I dream about,
Probably because she is all I dream about,
