Talent must skip a generation.

My father is effortlessly talented. He sketched out this picture of my late grandfather a few months back, and again, left me wondering why I can barely color inside the lines, yet he can capture someone’s entire essence with a no.2 pencil. His hands are talented, rough and worn from a lifetime of work, but he can create such fine textured beauty with them. When I was a kid, I used to love when he’d have clay on the table, playing around, and would sculpt me a rose, each individual petal with detail that always surprised me. As an adult, I look at his work, and feel a bit of sadness that he never had the opportunity to pursue it in the way that I know that he would have liked.
While I definitely didn’t inherit his abilities (see: my high school self-portrait), I think I did inherit his appreciation of aesthetics, and eye for beauty and detail. So thanks, Pop, for teaching me to see the world a little more clearly.

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