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56 THE฀DRAWING฀MANUAL ฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀฀—after฀Nicolaides The฀shadow฀of฀my฀hand as฀I฀write฀this—there฀is฀no฀ such฀thing฀as฀shadows,฀ I฀remember฀reading.฀฀But฀now the฀lamp฀is฀a฀moon฀and฀my฀hand฀ a฀cat฀in฀the฀flower฀bed,฀its฀ ready-to-leap฀burning฀ darker฀there.฀฀Where฀light does฀not฀get฀through฀is called฀a฀shadow,฀I฀read฀again.฀฀ But฀the฀tip฀of฀my฀pencil฀ meets฀its฀narrow฀ghost฀ only฀in฀this฀semi-gloom.฀฀Pause฀ or฀go฀on,฀gauzy฀overlay฀ sticking,฀stuck฀to฀my฀hand.฀฀ What฀I฀thought฀ I฀might฀write:฀฀“a฀day฀once฀ in฀its฀onceness,฀the฀onceness in฀any฀day฀lived฀through.”฀฀ Such฀nonsense!฀฀My฀knuckles฀ cast฀their฀shroud฀ on฀paper฀as฀I฀keep฀ this฀curious฀pace,฀each฀word฀ swallowed฀by฀my฀own฀ quick฀spill.฀฀The฀hand฀is a฀hero,฀dragging฀its small฀war฀behind฀it,฀flat฀now 57 and฀gray฀and฀if฀you฀must฀choose,฀ ignore฀the฀shadow and฀draw฀the฀form.฀฀I฀imagine฀ he฀said฀that฀many฀times฀before฀he฀ wrote฀it,฀those฀students฀ puzzled,฀looking฀up.฀฀No, it’s฀a฀window throwing฀his฀underworld shape฀to฀the฀floor. ...

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