In high school, there was this remarkable guy, a fellow classmate, who was about a grade or two ahead of me. His name was David. To this day I am still unsure what his nationality is. He rocked this sandy-brown, curly fro, and he was a phenomenal artist — one of the best I had ever seen live up to that point. He used to carry his portfolio around with him and one day I asked him what was inside. When he opened up that black, mobile-museum, the pictures it held inside captivated me instantly. He drew with such detail and I was in awe. It was one of those moments that had a profound affect on my life. It inspired me to start drawing, though I was never as good as he was. Another memorable recount about that experience is that he loved… . loved… loved… Donna Summer and in his drawings he never missed one tiny spec of detail. He created magic with an “Ebony” pencil. His pencil sketching captured every strand in the Cleopatra hair styling, every loop in those incredibly large Egyptian-like earrings, the multi-colored lacing in those stiletto ankle boots, and that black cobweb netting of her stockings.
That’s what I remember.
When I heard that Donna Summer had passed today I instantly thought of him, and wondered where he is today.
And these are the…
(reflections of a writer) GD
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