To hold someone’s sketchbook, and flip through the pages seeing a little slice of what went through their mind is indescribable. As I hold this sketchbook full of nude women, crazy creatures, pastel colored faces, and scribbled notes, I wonder to myself, how could one just throw this masterpiece away? To reject a piece of mind and soul and belief in such manner. At this point, I am glad to have saved this treasure. I feel like even if that person doesn’t exist in that same mindset as they had when they worked these miniature drawings, they were caught and seized in that moment to let themselves not be judged by the influence of others and let it rest on paper. This book. This person. The light changes color but the flame is yet the same. Someday, maybe someday, that flame shall turn the color I once knew. Just maybe.