By Stevie P Thomas
Can you draw?
I have a pencil in my hand, three-hundred-GSM paper wire-bound into a pad resting against my leg, and nails perpetually stained with charcoal—and you ask me this?
Can I draw?
Of course, like breathing: innate, natural.
And yet, there is a blank page resting in front of me, a white caress against my soul, a kiss—deep and draining. I iron my palm across the page, smooth but unyielding.
You press me—eyes, words, that lingering question mark, breath drawn in anticipation of an answer.
I dip shaking pencil point to sea glass.
I make a mark.
Great contrast between drawing being natural while being confronted with a blank canvas.
Lovely picture. Could relate to the block!
Great work. Loved the hidden depth in the narrator’s struggle, and the block.