Duality Drawing Novels & Stories

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” Mr. D then walks towards the corner with a working space. On a rectangular table, there are various coloring materials. He then bends down and picks up a brush on a table. Without glancing at me, he dips into a bowl of red acrylic paint, then sketches the shape of a heart in a blank canvass. While his hand moves deftly in gentle strokes, I notice that he gets himself lost in what he is doing. I feel like he has forgotten that I’m there.

He checked each piece with the same quiet focus. Hale knelt at the foot of the cot and opened his chalk case. The sticks clinked together softly. He selected one and began to draw. He marked a wide ring around the cot first, then set a second ring outside it. At four points he added sigils. Marius knelt near the door and set the iron bowls on the floor. He spooned resin into each, struck the brass striker to ignite the resin in each bowl. Smoke rose at once. He slid one bowl toward the head of the cot and one toward the foot. The heat from them didn’t warm the cell. It only made the air thicker.

Above the drawing was a question, written in Dudley’s handwriting: What is their cross-breeding process? I flipped the page to find another diagram with circles and numbers I couldn’t make sense of. Next to it was a drawing of a tree. I stood up and made my way to the back window, holding the journal up so it was sitting beside the singular apple tree in Dudley’s backyard in my line of vision. The drawing was nearly identical to the tree. On top of this drawing was another note: Need to perfect drought resistance or seeds will be wasted.

He begins. What he makes over the next hour is not any drawing I have ever seen from him before. It is the city. All of it. The valley and the river and the anchor formation and the buildings and Vael's notebooks on the wall and Rael reading the stone and Neva at the table and the living arch at the entrance and the cliff face and the specific amber of Mireth's late afternoon — all of it on one page, not in perspective, not in any conventional spatial relationship, but in the relationship of frequency. The things that are most strongly connected in the anchor system closest to each other on the page regardless of their physical distance. The things that are peripheral in the formation at the

But there was something missing in this outfit. I chewed on the back of my pencil whilst thinking about it. What might he have missed while drawing it? But then my mind sidetracked to some other direction, pondering about his hands which were hard but drawn such a design. It was light, filling the lighter and darker spaces at the accurate places. I used to love his artistic hands because they used to be longer, sleek and gripped the pencil in a fluent manner. We both liked art and sketching, but Dhruv was more of technology and game person. He used to say one day he would make a game which all world would see.

EPISODE 225 After more than two hours, Dax finally finished the drawing he had been obsessing over. He straightened up with a proud grin, his chest puffed out slightly as he presented the piece of parchment to me like it was the greatest creation ever made. I acted impressed, eyes widening, lips parting in awe because I didn’t want to ruin his good mood. He looked so genuinely pleased with himself that I couldn’t bear to dampen that excitement. So I admired it with all the enthusiasm I could muster, even if I didn’t entirely understand what made it so special.

"What does your new friend look like, Heidi?" Heidi proudly lifted her drawing. It was a crude, childish sketch of a very tall figure standing between two giant green trees. The figure was colored completely in dark gray and black crayons, but the most unsettling part was the face. Heidi had used a bright yellow crayon to draw two massive, perfectly round circles for the eyes.

Gratefully. "Did you work on anything?" asks Dane. "As in art homework?" I ask back. "Yeah." "I did the ten sketches, if that's what you're talking about," I say as I pull out my book. Opening it up to the page, I show him. "I like that one," says Dane as he points at one that I made of Rupert at his house. Rupert sits on the porch, and look out at the huge grassy yard. He sits resolutely and above is the sky and clouds drawn in wavy pencil lines.

“Draw me.” Goldie looks at Darryl and takes the pencil. He moves the tip of the pencil on the paper and begins to scribble a couple of circles and lines. Darryl watches him with intent, The drawing highlighted some of his facial features more than the others, almost like in a cartoonish style. “Good,” Darryl nods at him, “Now, draw what they did to you in Bilibid. Did they torture you? Blackmail? Kidnapped? ”

She looked at the blank page. She drew the studio window again. The same subject. The same morning. A different version — the free hand finding the same thing slightly differently the second time, which was what happened when you drew something twice and let the second version be its own thing rather than a correction of the first. Both versions were true. That was the point. The same morning, the same light, the same studio — and two different true accounts of it, both existing simultaneously, both right.