A drawing done by looking at and attempting to draw Goya's Sleep of Reason etching. I white-out imperfect or inaccurate lines, doing this again and again till the white up builds up and I can't draw over top of it anymore...
I reflected that all things happen to oneself, and happen precisely, precisely now. Century follows century, yet events occur only in the present; countless men in the air, on the land and sea, yet everything that truly happens, happens to me. – Borges, Garden of Forking Paths.
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