I refuse to wear my glasses when I sketch him. I take a pen not a pencil to avoid the temptation of erasing what is not good. If I am after making a masterpiece I don’t need to even start.

I see him well but I don’t see what my hand is doing. I just want to guess, flow sense, and feel the lines. Does it matter? I am happy.

The sun came back. They call it spring in here and I can’t help to smile when I hear that. In Montreal spring is a violent change of weather with extreme response from nature and humans who suddenly roams the streets half naked in a stage of strange beatitude. In Australia spring is muted, nature in a constant state of beauty, humans…well humans remain.

Ape is soft, a softness I am not used to.

I don’t want to see what I am sketching because reality or perfection is not what I need.

I am with the beast and he is creating.


2 thoughts on “Spring

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