I wanted to post something new for today but I'm still kinda pooped from my trip to D.C. so instead I thought I'd post another in my series of drawings of old friends that I did about 20 years ago. When I look at this drawing now I wish two things. One, that I could remember more about her, some story to tell, but the best I can offer is only her first name, and that I thought she had a beautiful face. And two, I wish . . . . well heck, maybe I'll just keep that wish to myself. Don't they only come true if they're kept secret ?
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