Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. — James 1:17
The child in me is screaming… “Let your imagination take flight… And you will soar to heights.”
My hands are aching to draw. The skin on my palms long to feel the texture of smooth paper… And its roughness after it has been filled with strokes… To put the pencil on the limelight… Dancing and turning… And the sheet of paper is its stage… Exercise my fingers worn out from hopping on the computer keyboard.
Lately, the experience feels trivial… The lines, the curves, the shapes… And I found my arm extending to reach for the eraser every now and then.
But maybe if I draw more often… My little finger muscles will get back in shape.
Thank you for dropping by! God bless. :-)
