Some guy on the train drew this portrait of me.
I don’t know the artists name, he just drew it, unbeknown to me, while I sat in deep thought looking out the window and listening to The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, their message still depressingly current across 18 years since their first and only album.
I had just had a wonderful week-end with the kids and my family, and when I left and waved good-bye and had walked about 30 meter, my 3½-year old son ran after me shouting “Dad! Wait dad!”, and I had to turn around and bring him back, before I had to leave for the bus I had to catch.
It breaks my heart every time I have to leave, even more this time.
I very much appreciated the gesture of the drawing, the physicality of it, much more than the meager “Thanks!” I gave suggested. I was a little surprised of course. And it made me think about how digital my life has become, and how little I create physical artifacts with my hands. I kind of miss that. I used to draw a lot as a kid, but I stopped in my teens.