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Description
I think about this story all the time, told through the eyes of someone close to her. Yet every time I seek to draw the face of it I fail in one way or another. When does something become so real to you that it escapes realization? Is it because I lack a connection to the reality or has it just been blown out of realistic proportions? Truth is consistency is something truly lacking because the form of this changes based on my precepts of my current life. What will she look like in the next year? Will she still be recognizable or will she change with the ever-shifting personality of myself. One can only imagine...

Description
I think about this story all the time, told through the eyes of someone close to her. Yet every time I seek to draw the face of it I fail in one way or another. When does something become so real to you that it escapes realization? Is it because I lack a connection to the reality or has it just been blown out of realistic proportions? Truth is consistency is something truly lacking because the form of this changes based on my precepts of my current life. What will she look like in the next year? Will she still be recognizable or will she change with the ever-shifting personality of myself. One can only imagine...