drawing

i draw with the whirls of the sun shining into my face, and the darkness of the shadows creeping in from the evening. they never take the form of anything concrete, just swirls and patterns and weaving tendrils and lines and flowery bursts.

i am an artist, but what do i draw? if i am an artist, how do i not know what i produce?

i never know what it'll look like until i'm finished and that's life.