Leo frowned. That wasn’t a very encouraging start. But beneath the word was a single, shaky line—not straight, not curved, just hesitant. "Every masterpiece begins with a line that doesn't know where it's going," the text whispered. "Don't erase the awkward. It’s honest."
He turned to
Then he kept going.
The guide showed a charcoal smudge, a dark cloud of a shape. "Before the eagle, there was the egg. Before the oak, the acorn. Before the hand, the blob. Draw a blob. Now squint. Do you see a sleeping cat? A storm cloud? A potato wearing a hat?"

































































