Brushes with strangers

The people opposite seemed to have cottoned on to what I was up to. And the woman I wanted to draw – a pretty, spikily thin, immaculately smart woman in a sharp black suit – kept shifting about and lifting her paper in front of her face.

So I drew myself. My reflection was imprinted on the rushing darkness beyond the window, and it didn’t much matter if I spotted what I was up to. I kept nice and still, too.

Yes, I have come out looking more than a little sinister. Like some version of The Terminator, or a serial killer. Especially when, trying to replicate the dark reflective window, I shrouded the drawing in grey. All the stalkerish aspects of this project coming out.

Still, I quite like the drawing.