I continue to open and close and open again a Harry/Draco picture that I am drawing for my fic, which will, with luck and free time, one day--perhaps--maybe--if there is a God--be written. Maybe. Perhaps. Maybe.
It looks fine to me mostly. But there is that something there that makes me say, “Nope, nope, keep going. Not enough. Too much. Lighter. Darker. Stripes. Zigzags.”
Hmph. It is likely that Harry/Draco is my Pairing of Doom for drawing. Coloring, that is. The drawing is fine. It’s the color that is being a bastard. I considered starting it again in colored pencils; however, since I am new to this “coloring my drawings on the computer” thing (so new that I cannot even find an appropriate term), I will keep going. Practice makes competence.
--My trip was tragically wonderful. I did not want to leave. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was also tragically wonderful. The Oregon Shakespeare Festival is always tragically wonderful. But there are things to be done here; unfortunately I am several decades away from retirement.
My souvenirs, none of which have anything to do with Shakespeare:
The hugest permanent marker I have ever seen
The teeniest permanent marker I have ever seen
A stuffed dragon that cost too much to contemplate comfortably
A program for each of the six productions I watched
It was a very worthwhile journey, but I am happy to be home.
--Also, since I am enjoying Harry/Draco today, here is a fic.
The Reader by Aja. Pre-slash, really. Less that that even. Tissues were not around when I read, and that made me even sadder. I disliked that there was so little dialogue within such a large chunk of text, but it was a great fic, nonetheless.