Wednesday, 30 September 2009
I can't draw. And I don't like it. Even when I was a child, I hated the moment our teacher used to ask us to draw a picture. Because I can't do it.
But every time I pass by this little shop I can't avoid stopping in front of it, and I would like to enter it once. Now, I don't dare because I know that there is nothing for me inside, but stopping in front of the window I wish I could draw and paint, just to enter. I know that in a place like this probably there is an old shop assistant, one of those who perfectly knows everything about art. One of those who knows everything about Giotto, for example and can explain you how to make a perfect picture. Because in these old little shops, assistants are always like this, I'm sure!
This shop is in the very centre of Padova and it is one of my favourite place, because when I stop there to look at the window my mind can wander and imagine things, because like many old things is something rare and beautiful.
And still, I can't draw, and I don't like it.