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Sketchbook

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Now’s time for cold walks to class, cosy apartment chillin’ and more Friday night drinks on the Place Richelme with the Marchutz equippe. You couldn’t see it from the way I scribble my pen to the page, but I’m more in love with Aix en Provence every time I come back to it’s antique old stone estuary of squares and buildings and cathedrals and rustling little cobbled alleys. We talk about the light here as if it were a landmark and I’m noticing that it’s a whiter tone licking the bare tree tops than in the autumn months. Last night it snowed for ten minutes under the street lamps in between bouts of rain. My hands were numb with cold, but I was happy.

I wish I could show you a photo. Where are the photos? Technically, in 15 rolls of film in our mini-fridge, waiting, like lots of my ideas or sketches, for the right time to become something I can show you. It’s all part of my making peace with delayed gratification and learning to love the process and the habits at least if not more than the product.

But I gotta show you something, so I took some photos with Hilary’s camera of my daily doodles. The ones at the top are products of note-taking and restlessness in class and the ones at the bottom I copied from an El Greco from a book I bought at the Sunday book market (4Euros!). I did the sketch on the left side with my left hand, and did the one on the right with my right.

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