Sometimes we must undergo hardships, breakups, and narcissistic wounds, which shatter the flattering image that we had of ourselves, in order to discover two truths: that we are not who we thought we were; and that the loss of a cherished pleasure is not necessarily the loss of true happiness and well-being.
I really love drawing girls of colour, they are just so incredibly beautiful (just for the record, everyone is but I love experimenting with different shades).
By now, you have probably noticed that drawing isn’t what I am especially good at but I will post these anyway, since when it comes to art, fun should always be the first reason to create.
This is a wild mix of coal, (oil) pastels and some acrylics, by the way (and the eyeshadow somehow reminds me of Blink 182 [whom I am going to see live in concert next month, ahh], so that kind of turned out quite nicely, I guess.
“He knew that he’d never desire any lips other than hers- He knew from that moment, only she would exist, her neck, shoulders,- her delicate, cool skin, which couldn’t be compared to any other he had ever touched. He gazed into her violet eyes, the most beautiful eyes in the world, eyes which he feared would become…...Everything. He knew.” -Andrzej Sapkowski (The Last Wish)
“Well, Mr. Jest, I’ve sometimes come to believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
His feet stalled all at once, his face turning to her, bewildered.
Her grin fell. “What is it?”
Jest’s eyes narrowed, studying her.
Catherine cowered beneath the inspection. “What?”
“Are you sure you aren’t the one the King is in love with?”
It took a moment, but when the laugh came, It was honest and unforced. The idea that the King might wish to marry her was one thing, but the thought of him being in love with her was an entirely different realm of absurdity.
“I assure you, he’s not,” she said, still smiling, though Jest looked unconvinced. “What does that have to do with impossible things?”
“It just sounds like a queenly sort of thing to say,” he said, offering his arm again. Cath took it, though with more hesitation. “And, well, impossible is my specialty.”
She peered up at his profile, his angled features, the mask of kohl. “That,” she said, “seems entirely believable.”