Sans Drawing Novels & Stories

Mordechai said. “How do you have no idea?” “I just pick something up and I start. Half the time, it ends up being something. You don’t have to pretend to be interested.” My heart thumped. “I’m not. I didn’t like all the quiet and I wanted to know what you were working on.” He stopped, taking a deep breath before he sat back and let the sketchpad lay on his lap. “I don’t really let people see me draw.” “Do you want me to go into the other room?”

I can’t seem to take my eyes off it. “Thank you very much.” He says smiling at me. “Do you draw?” he asks looking at me with the same intensity he was looking at the little girl. His focus is a little intimidating; I’m not used to people looking at me like that. I’m used to disappearing in the background. “No, I do not.” I say smiling at him too. Why would he think I draw? “I can barely draw a stick man.” I say truthfully. I don’t even own a pencil.

It was just like the writings of a computer, neatly and clearly obvious. Her perfect handwriting flows gracefully across the page, with elegant curves and consistent spacing. Each letter was meticulously formed, exuding a sense of sophistication and precision that captures attention and invites admiration. I picked up the drawings, and observed the nude pictures perfectly sketched out on blank sheets. This young Miss drawing is a mesmerizing dance of colors and lines, weaving together to create a vivid tapestry of emotions. With each stroke, she breathes life into her creation, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and depth.

He opened his backpack, drew out a black, thick sketchpad, and then flipped some pages before presenting it to me. He showed me an etched drawing of a beautiful girl with her long fingers brushed on her hair and as though her charcoal eyes were looking straight at me. “You can draw? Drake, this is amazing!” I gasped. He scratched his hair. “It’s not much. I’m still practicing.” “It looks beautiful to me.” I stared at the drawing. “She looks so real. Who is she?” Probably his crush? Please, let it not be his crush. “No one. Just in my imagination. I haven’t tried realism yet.”

He whines and I laugh at him. I raffles his hair and hold his face in my palms. “So… how is handsome Denzel doing today?” “I’m fine! Here….” He reaches for a drawing book next to him on the bed and shows me a page where drew…. Ah! I don’t even know what he drew! But I guess it’s some cartoons. “… Look, Anna, I drew hulk and captain America!” “Oh… “ I take a closer look and frown, why doesn’t they look like the hulk and captain America I know?

Their family. Not literally, not as portraiture, but as structure and connection: figures whose relationships were indicated through the visual language of the drawings rather than through labels, figures connected by lines and colour and proximity in ways that were sometimes obvious and sometimes required looking. One drawing showed a figure at the centre of a web of connections extending outward in all directions, the web elaborate and strong. Another showed a figure standing slightly apart from a conventional grouping, the space between them both visible and not empty, filled with something that was neither belonging nor exclusion but something more complicated.

Cinderella POV. "Today we're gonna do some drawing class," Miss Bee says excited, getting all of the littles' attention, they were all excited and happy about this, but I don't do well drawing, I can colour, not very well but I can colour, I can't get a line straight though. "I don't like drawing," I whine in a low voice, mostly talking to giggles since the person sitting next to me is Remedy who's not my biggest fan out there.

Sighing heavily, he continued drawing not wanting to divert his attention. Her cute egg-shaped eyes roamed around disturbing him to another level. Sanskar lifted his eyes from his drawing board and drifted it towards the side where the girl was standing. She was lost in the painting. Her priceless expression makes him giggle. She is indeed a cute bubbly girl and he is attracted for sure.

But I am pleasantly surprised to see how he captured my legs perfectly well, every line was represented well. “Woah.” I whisper, still not moving from my spot. Mostly because I didn’t want him to see how damp I had made the bench. Also because this was the only way I could trust myself to stay put, I didn’t trust myself to be civil around him. “This is the first time I haven’t finished a drawing.” The me on the canvas didn’t have an upper body, he stopped just above my belly button piercing. “Why?” “I was distracted.”

“Júlia, this is…” “It’s just drawing,” she insisted, taking another step forward. “Some sketches. You sit. I draw. That’s all. After last night…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “…I think we need to redefine things. Show that we can be in the same space without… without the world collapsing. It’s just physics, right? Anatomy. Lines. Angles.”