For Faith - a graphic novella

Coming home, it’s a different story. Anyone
can be a victim to my wandering eyes. For a lot
of people - I guess I mean specifically women,
but it’s really anyone - that might be a really
horrific thought. What am I doing, with my
eyes? Why are they wandering in that manner,
what shapes are they following, what trends?
What I am doing, though, when I look
at these folk, is finding the lightest
and darkest parts of their faces, the
highlights and the shadows. I make
a big deal out of the word shading,
what a horrible piece of vocabulary,
as if you’re the one throwing shadows
on the people you’ve drawn
flat as a chip.
Value. What a phenomenal piece of
terminology, one of my favorites,
outright. The edges and angles of
the visage, or a coat, or a shoe -
willing them into existence on the
page, finding their weight through the
rebounding light that pours over them
from the overhead lamps. Every line is
another stroke of a chisel, perhaps
this is the same way that the old
masters felt when making the memory
of a man in marble.
Needless to say, I am not unclothing folk in
my head, unless that be the explicit topic of
the day. "Think of everyone in their underwear"
is such a horrible piece of advice and I might
wish death upon whoever thought that up. You
would have no idea what people are into. I
myself would feel terrified to be undressed
like that, or completely out of place being
clothed. What if there is someone pretty on
the train? I don’t want to think about it.