There's a girl and she's sitting on the beach. Her left hand glides over the fine grains of sand, absentmindedly capturing parts between her long, slender fingers. There's something so familiar about this girl that my immediate thought is that I know her. Something about her resonates so truly in my soul, that I feel like I've been waiting for her for years. I look away for the briefest of moments and when I return, she's gazing across the ocean, eyes fixated on the distant horizon.
I'm not sure if it's the way her mouth is slightly down turned on the left side, or the fact her breathing catches ever so slightly, but I can tell that she's sad.
I know that I'm intruding on a very personal moment, but for some reason I can't look away from her. Something about this girl commands my attention, pulling me into the bubble she's created.
I attempt to walk towards her, but I pause, because I notice what she's doing. From this angle I can see that she's drawing, and the emotion I previously regarded as sadness is actually intense concentration. I continue intruding on her small existence, and I become completely fixated by the way her delicate hands move over the page, as though she holds the entire world on this canvas, bringing galaxies and mountains into creation by just the flick of her wrist.
