It is hard to represent the image of our imagination.
Crumpled paper covers every flat surface of his room, he can’t get the eyes right. He is usually very good at sketching portraits but the eyes were haunting him. It all started one day in his dream. He dreamed he was sitting next to the lake hand in hand with a lady dressed in a light blue dress. She had her head covered by an over-sized hat and her delicate fingers wrapped in pink lace gloves. Her brown hair did not move. It was propped and primped into soft waves that cascaded around her face and framed her small features. She was looking down at her hands and her long thick lashes set themselves ever so gently on her cheekbones.
He wondered who the lady may be but didn’t know how ask. He was afraid to speak lest the calmness be disturbed by his voice. He…
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