The artist sketching by the riverside was young, his long brown hair stringy and unwashed. But his pencil captured with clean lines the dark surging water, grey cloud lowering close, and granite houses on the far bank.
“Wanna buy it?” he asked, noticing my attention. “It’s yours for a tenner.”
The deal done, I rushed my prize home, spread it on the desk and took up the rubber. My hand lovingly consumed his effort, erasing the lines to pristine whiteness. I only ever work on other artists’ canvases. One day I will acquire a Michelangelo sketch and create a masterpiece.
Note for US readers. A rubber in British English is what you call eraser, not what you first thought.
Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on plot.