Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

still bearing the faint indentations of my old pencil lines and the green ink stains from the siren logo drafts. The low hum of my vintage drafting table light filled the corner, the metal arm of the lamp warm to the touch.

“I have been looking for a solid drafting table for my drawing class,” Frank said quietly. “If you are willing continue reading …