✧︎ DAY FOUR: Write about a happy memory ✦︎

As I remember, one of my joyful memories is connected to my forgotten childhood hobby, painting. I worked quite a long time ― almost five weeks, to be precise, ― on one painting, portrait of my favorite character from one of a classic british tv-series, which I was in love with for a several months. Having finishing the work on it, I rejoiced as never before.

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→ a short story behind this painting ←

The beginning was laid on a failed attempt to draw a great portrait of my favorite character ― correct, another one ― a dozen times. I was in a hurry, hoping to create a masterpiece by my own ― half-trembling ― hands for a few minutes. How foolishly of me, I might say. However, I have always been a very hasty person. In a second moments, I was wasting a pastel crayons, one by one, my hands were stained with multi-colored chalk, as well as my face. Then, I looked at the result of what I did a bunch of minutes ago, sighing in genuine disappointment and fatigue, lowering my head and covering my eyes with my own smeared in a chalk hands. Soon, I calmed down and pulled myself together, thinking about 'how can I kill my time' and coming to the realization that I did everything amiss. I was guided very inaccurate by the thoughts that I can ― and I will ― show off my 'unique' talent boastfully and demonstrate what I am truly capable of. I decided, that I should try to paint with watercolors or even with gouache paints and suddenly stopped on the second option ― gouache, afterwards, all events started develop in the correct direction with this type of my favorite paints. I put all possible efforts, which only growing and growing in myself, in the process of drawing this portrait, which in the result, after all work on it, was finished, seemed alive, compared to the character drawn on the canvas to an actual human being. His smile, lightly appeared in his barely darkened pinkish lips, was warm and soft; his eyes, overflowing with natural live energy, sparkling with pure joy and amusement, with creamy comfort and flexible happiness; his skin, with pleasant to stare at rose blush on the both cheeks, with a smooth touches of an ancient paintbrush on the canvas and various shade of pink, somewhere darker, somewhere lighter; his greyish hair, marginally curly, in the gracefully chaotic dance of paints ― black mixed with white and turned into different tinges of grey. And how overjoyed I was, when everything went to its actual end. I am still proud of myself, because the work was one of the immense, after all, it took several weeks of hard work and unshakable patience. Otherwise, an enthusiasm rushing out of me on the blank canvas and mixing with different colors of an old paints. More than three years have passed, since that triumphal day ever began and, of course, ended. This particular event falls into the category, which named 'happy memory', I suggest. The memory, which brings with itself in a luggage feeling of happiness and satisfaction.

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→ my feelings and somewhat thoughts, which flowing through me ←

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  • in a cold autumn evenings I was warmed by one quite simple thought. as a matter of fact, I absolutely did not want to give up pretty easily and lose my heart; therefore, I felt myself clearly amazing at the time, motivated by a future result, which I was draw in my thoughts.
  • in the second thought, I knew, that everything will be drawn in the the best possible way, which gave me an authentic confidence in my own unadulterated abilities.
  • for the first time in my entire life I worked so long and so hard to create an exquisite painting, even ethereal in some way. the painting, that was the last in the final stage of my artist's 'career'. I was very delighted, that everything went well enough to its end.

Also, another counting:

Thank you for your attention.
― Alex;