The pencil is still there. That is usually how it starts — not with a decision, but with a pencil found in a drawer, or a sketchbook someone left on a table. Perhaps it's a moment spent watching a child draw, their hand moving freely, and feeling something unnamed stir within you. You used to draw. Maybe it was a long time ago. Perhaps it was just last year. Somewhere between then and now, quietly and without ceremony, you stopped. Stopping rarely announces itself. You don't
