Some have faces others are part of the faceless crowd. They are the people I pass everyday, catching a glimpse and hurrying by, seeing but not really seeing, thinking about other things. My thoughts are here and there. Hands are holding objects. Boxes and eggs.
Women think about creation, the center of the universe, it mingles with other thoughts.
They gaze at each other. The page turns. It's white again. And so it goes, days, months, years, page after page. Enjoying the process, watching the drawings grow and change.