From Issue 18: Learning How Not To

Paul Ilechko The sweet susurration of tires continues as cars drift ruefully past my house. It’s a constant stream, day and night, and by now I no longer hear them. Except, there are fewer after midnight, which means that the extra ones in morning act as a gentle kind of alarm clock, drawing me out, hauling me up from the deep, still waters of sleep. Long ago, I learned to draw. In order to draw well you need to learn not to think too much. Afterwards, I learned to paint, which to my surprise involved forgetting how to draw. The…

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