I was sitting on my balcony last Tuesday, staring at my sketchbook—the one with the frayed edges and the charcoal…

I remember sitting on a rusted metal bench in a tiny, tucked-away courtyard last Tuesday, clutching my sketchbook like a…

I was sitting on my floor this morning, surrounded by half-finished sketches and a very dramatic, slightly wilted fern I’ve…

Last Tuesday, I found myself sitting in my sun-drenched studio, staring at a half-finished sketch of a creeping ivy plant…

I was sitting on a chipped green bench in my favorite pocket garden last Tuesday, sketching the way the light…

I was sitting on a rusted park bench last Tuesday, staring at a patch of moss creeping up a limestone…

I was sitting in my sun-drenched studio yesterday, trying to sketch the delicate, sprawling leaves of my Monstera—whom I’ve named…

I was sitting on a weathered bench in my favorite community garden last Tuesday, sketching a particularly stubborn hydrangea, when…

I was sitting on a rusted park bench yesterday, my sketchbook open and my fingers stained with a smudge of…

I was sitting at my cluttered desk yesterday, staring at a half-finished sketch of a fern, when the heavy, gray…