As I was drawing this stack of books, it occured to me how much of my life is contained in them. How many hours have I spent choosing them, drawing in them, writing in them? My thoughts, my aspirations, my attempts are all in there. I'm very attached to these books, probably because they feel like an extention of me. They reflect a part of me that I don't share often with others. As I get older, I use my journal more as a combination journal and daytimer. Both sketchbooks and journals are a way to record the world around me and the day to day journey of my life. There is a lot of my heart and soul poured into these books.
This was a difficult drawing, and this is not the first attempt. I spent a long time trying to get the perspective right. And I didn't get it right, but it's sure a lot better than the first attempt. I can't quite figure out what is so extraordinarily hard about drawing a stack of books. I've heard others say the same thing. Keep practising.
"A man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's heaven for" Robert Browning
This is watercolor pencil, and Staedtler pen in the Moleskine sketchbook.