Picture of You

**Told from Keun Seuk's voice as could have been found in a secret diary the night of the Tokyo FM**

2010.05.29
Tokyo, Japan
1:00 AM

Tonight was a good night. Why? Because tonight I did not have to lie. Tonight the world knew what was in my heart. Tonight, using a whiteboard as both my canvas and disguise, I got to wear my heart out on my sleeve.

They could think it is fan service, since after all it is the first time for me to do this in public. They asked me to draw my ideal woman. But for some reason, in between explanations to the interviewer, I just couldn't look my eager audience straight in the eye anymore. For a moment in time tonight, the world just revolved between me, the marker and that board. I couldn't see anything else but the vivid memory of a girl that I met for a cup of coffee a few weeks ago. Or that of a girl who showed me how to dance to the beat a couple more other weeks back. Or that of a girl who came into my life many years ago and grew alive in me those chilly days last fall.

My drawing probably did not come out great but the art behind remembering is what matters most to me.

I drew someone that had big eyes. Like how your eyes look up to me inquisitively like discovering something for the first time every day. Or like how your eyes round up amid tears that pool each time you forgive me for my bouts of stupidity and arrogance.

I drew someone that had wavy long hair. When I remembered the distinct scent of flowers in your hair each time you rest your head on my shoulder. Or the strands I run my fingers through each time we lock ourselves in a tender embrace goodbye, good night or hello. Or when I remembered how frustrated you sound with the short locks you don right now, eagerly awaiting them to grow back to the long wavy hair you wore so proudly before. After all, I like what you love when it comes to how you look. Because frankly, I cannot find a day when I don't find you beautiful.

I drew someone that had a fleshy body and a long neckline. Well, other than the fact that this revealed the guy in me, I drew it as I thought of how delicate and soft you feel in my arms. The same softness that makes me want to shield and protect our love.

I drew someone with rosy and pink cheeks . Just like the way you blush each time I tell you a joke or just whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

I drew someone who dresses up in frilly romantic clothing. Just like how I think we probably met sometime in that Renaissance era, eons ago, aristocrats in love only to be reborn later to this time. For you to sweep me off my feet again with your grace.

Yes, when they asked me to draw my ideal woman today, the world was lost to me and it was only your picture in my mind. Yes, when they asked me to draw my ideal woman today, I drew a picture of you, no matter how childish my squiggle looked. It was you, could only be you.

They asked me to find someone in the crowd that matches my drawing. And because I was still in a daze thinking of you, I couldn't scan the faces properly and find any one who fits. And honestly, I wanted to tell them it's impossible to find her there, because you were not there, in that room with me.

I wanted to tell them that the woman I drew does exist somewhere and she's in a place I call home. Heck, at this time she is my home.

She is somewhere. Maybe riding her bike down the riverbank basking at the poetry of the moment. Or hanging out with familiar friends being her goofy self .

Or as always, just somewhere, tucked in a quiet corner of my mind and heart only to reveal herself when they ask me to draw again.