Some mistakes are better left visible.


This is the first sketch I made with a stylus. I’ve since cleaned up the sketch but the fresher version doesn’t resemble the jaded memory I had hoped to portray.

What do you see when you step out of your gate and the afternoon sun lavishes you with its warmth?

Do you see bright white so unreal you can picture hope and almost touch the gateway to heaven?

That morning, I closed my eyes the moment the heat burnt my skin and the red behind my lids matched the anger I felt. I heard the sun laughing at me… mocking me. The plants are stretching and the birds are singing. My dog is lazing in the shade. So why, when the sun rays reached me, did my body crack? My insides were freezing with my emotions.

Nothing until that moment penetrated my glass house of a body.

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