In class, we’ve finally had a chance to experiment with the wonders of lean and mean charcoal. And by experiment, I do mean smearing all over paper, erasing said smeared paper since there were no papers left over, and repeating the process until class was over. This, all in all, was a productive day, considering the fact that I now have a blurred blob of charcoal pencil to hang up on my refrigerator, of which I dub Bob.

However, when I speak of experimentation, it also led to bouts of glory when one had charcoal caked over their fingers and had the undying, burning passion to smear it over another classmate’s face. And when I say, smeared over another classmate’s face, I mean the occasional black hand print conveniently placed over their forehead, in such a manner that it’s as if it was some astrological sign from the heavens.

I was one of the blessed to have such a sign. I was also one of those who blessed others.

Oh, charcoal.