Eighth Sketch

    What shall I sketch today? I don’t know. Maybe this sketch will just be a ramble of garbage because I still don’t feel good. I don’t. And I don’t care about doing any work. I will be going to bed early tonight; at least I plan. This isn’t a damn sketch, this about me; this is not to be about me, not me not me.
    He stand in the middle of a street, sunglasses on, his lips not in the position of a smile, and not quite a frown. The buildings ‘v’ behind him, like that of a movie where the artist has taken the time to enhance the background. The impression I get from this photograph is his want in being a model. The straight on look of his lips does not help this upcoming appearance. I want to move his lips, just a little to take out the straight lip tightens with the small wiggle visible at the left on the upper lip. Was he trying to give a snarl that just didn’t work out?
    I look deeper into the pictures, trying to determine if this man is Hispanic, Native American, or Oriental? The sunglasses hide the possible way to identify this man’s origins. It doesn’t matter. This picture is eye catching, the background is intriguing, the photographer has done well in bringing out the best in this man.