Beyond words
Some time ago, I went to a charity auction, where I found myself so deeply attracted to this drawing of a dog, that I was this close to forking out half my monthly income right there and then to bring it home.
I didn’t in the end, well, mostly because I actually couldn’t afford forking out half my monthly income at that point in time. I hesitated, knowing that my financials would be stretched. Hey, it was an auction. Things move quickly in live auctions. I missed an opportunity.
Since then, I can’t stop thinking about that drawing.
I don’t want that particular drawing anymore. I don’t regret not bidding for it, no. But it did get me thinking. I want a drawing of MY dog. Wouldn’t it be lovely if I had a charcoal sketch of my beloved dog, etched with my own hands? It wouldn’t look half as beautiful as the other one, but it’d be so much more meaningful.
Have you ever had these moments of utter and complete love for someone, that in that split second, you’re brimming with joy and optimism for the very nature of your human existence that’s enabled this boundless love, and also simultaneously crushed by the realisation and fear of the likelihood–no, inevitability–of loss, death and meaningless existence without?
Do you even know what I’m talking about? You do? You have? Okay, multiply it by a gazillion, and it’s perhaps then closer to what it really feels like.
God knows I’ve tried so many times now to put this feeling I have for Tae into words, and it’s not nearly close enough. Maybe it’s time I learn to draw, and translate that into something visual. When the inadequacy of that medium starts to frustrate me, perhaps I’d then learn to write music.
[The first drawing I make of Tae would probably be that of her sleeping. That is after all the most common sight of all. Oh my darling.]