Dibujos

The museum was stone and dark, each room illuminated by the painted backgrounds of the displays in pinks, purples, and blues, at once both muted and bright. As I drew, clouds slid over the courtyard and light shifted on stone and paint. A guard came up to see what I was doing and was delighted to see that I was drawing. He seemed to really love the artifacts and pointed out little details about them and told many stories, most of which I could not understand. 


I was thrilled when he asked me about my kneaded eraser, partly because he was interested in my unusual drawing tool, but even more because he used the word goma.