Dimensions on the Tip of the Pen

You must have drawn when you were a child. Draw a circle as the sun, a triangle as a house, and a stick figure as yourself. At that time you felt that the painting was very good. Then you grew up. You know that the sun is not a perfect circle, a house is not a triangle, and a human arm is not a stick. The more you know, the less you dare to write. The protagonist of this story is different. He also grew up and learned about perspective, light and shadow, and human body proportions. But he picked up the pen anyway. Because he discovered that there are some things in the world that cannot be accepted just by knowing them. For example, parting, disappearing, even though the paintings are exactly the same, it always feels like something is missing. It took him a long time to understand that what was missing was not the skill, but the temperature. So he began to draw those invisible things: longing is a line extending to the edge of the paper, regret is a piece of gray that can never be painted, courage is a line that is broken and reconnected. He painted a lot. Some stayed, some disappeared. But he never put down the pen. Because he wanted to draw an answer - the answer to "why some people come into your life and then leave." He didn't know if the pen could help him find it. But he knew that if he didn't draw it until the end, he would never know. He kept painting. Start with a paper cat and draw it to the end. The answer is not on the tip of the pen. In his hand.