My Seventy Eight Year Old Neighbor Gave Me A Key To Her Shed And I Was Not Ready For What I Found

of them, loose and stacked, some rolled and tied with string. I picked up the first one and held it toward the light from the open door. A pencil drawing of a woman’s face, precise and studied, the work of a hand that had drawn the same subject many times and had learned, in the repetition, to find it from any angle. It was the face of the sculpture.continue reading …