Journal Time!
So I pull out my pad, a pencil and an eraser.
I begin to scribe what i hope will become something to accompany one of my many ideas, materialized only in literature form thus far.
And as previously expected I fail.
It seems drawing people, shading limbs, the folding and webbing of clothes is far out of my capability.
so I guess I'll turn my back on the cosmetics and dedicate my efforts to literature still.
I did however flip back through my pad and I stumbled across an exploded view of a spring loaded wrist blade. it's ugly, cold and menacing, as tools of lethality should be. even after how many months I realise this IS wi