The boys draw as if they were eating candy. In fits of excess, relishing each piece like gluttons. (The amount of paper they burn through could be a deadly sin.)
It’s like their own language: chatting with ink and color, some moments of silence and then explosions of conversation, complete with storytelling and punchlines. Wherever words feel too thin and weak, their art does the talking.
In a lot of ways I feel like they’re closer to God than I am, creating something out of nothing. Emptiness scares me. Now that I think about it, I guess that’s why I get writer’s block: fear of emptiness. Or fear of messing up the emptiness with sub-par creativity. The boys eat emptiness for breakfast.
I think that’s what inspires me so much when I watch them. It’s this confidence and focus they have, this control over the world that they know no one can take away. So even when the floor is littered with half-finished sketches I leave them be in a world where they are kings.