Anatomical lines
Old drawing.
I think I left it like this. Although I don't think many people have seen it.
The format of the pencil drawing is almost A4. Because it was drawn on recycled paper. That is, the paper was reused.
Cut-out pads from some kind of packaging were used as "bikinis".
Of course, someone can draw better.
But for me, it's just experimental drawing.
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Drawing slows the mind enough for the hand to listen.
In drawing, observation becomes a form of respect.
Drawing turns looking into understanding.
A drawing captures attention, not reality.
Drawing reveals what the eye lingers on unconsciously.
In drawing, mistakes often lead the way forward.
Drawing is thinking made visible.
The act of drawing measures patience more than skill.
Drawing allows silence to take shape.
Through drawing, time stretches and then disappears.
Drawing teaches acceptance of imperfection.
A drawing records presence, not just form.
Drawing trains the eye to notice before judging.
In drawing, control and surrender exist together.
Drawing is a conversation between attention and movement.
Sorrow slows time, asking us to feel what we would rather avoid.
In sorrow, silence often speaks more clearly than words.
Sorrow teaches depth by taking away what once felt stable.
Sorrow does not rush; it waits until we are willing to listen.
Through sorrow, ordinary memories gain unexpected weight.
Sorrow reveals how deeply we have cared.
In sorrow, even small kindnesses feel immense.
Sorrow reshapes identity without asking permission.
Sorrow lingers, not to punish, but to be acknowledged.
Sorrow creates space for compassion we could not reach before.
Sorrow teaches patience with both ourselves and others.
In sorrow, strength becomes quiet and internal.
Sorrow reminds us that love leaves traces when it goes.
Sorrow feels heavy because it carries meaning.
Sorrow, when held gently, can soften rather than break us.
A net reminds us that connection often matters more than strength alone.
Each knot in a net carries the weight of shared responsibility.
Nets catch not by force, but by cooperation between many small threads.
A net teaches how fragility can become resilience when joined together.
In a net, empty spaces are just as important as the threads.
Nets reflect how support systems quietly hold us when we fall.
Every net is a balance between openness and protection.
A net shows that unity does not erase individuality.
Nets transform chaos into containment through simple structure.
The strength of a net lies in repetition and trust.
A torn net reminds us how neglect weakens even the strongest designs.
Nets catch possibilities that single lines would miss.
A net reflects life’s interdependence, where nothing truly stands alone.
Nets hold gently, without gripping or suffocating.
In a net, connection becomes a quiet form of security.