I used to dream about being a great artist. I wanted to learn to draw and paint and be brilliant.
My favorite class in Elementary school was art. Or English.
But I grew up and felt the cold reality that I wont always be able to do what I wish I could.
Sometimes I'm too busy to practice and therefore not good enough. And sometimes I just am plain not talented enough. I worry that adulthood has made me one dimensional. Thats why when I find someone who inspires me to remember how dynamic I was as a child, with all my interests, I generally enjoy their company.
And so for a moment I pretend to be more multi-faceted than I really am.
Like that I couldnt figure out how to draw a hand and therefore didnt include it?
Good thing I'm familiar with my own face.