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A dense cluster of geometric buildings sits beside the phrase "Offline is the New Rich" highlighting a contrast between urban and online life, and simplicity. To the right, a small house stands alone surrounded by trees and clouds.

Mark Twain (1835–1910) In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.” Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ― Mark Twain #dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey

I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root. And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty. This is compulsory education, after all. So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past. “Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge. The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence. Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen— my scribble’s soft insurgency. The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn. Columns and corners chant structure. Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter— their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward. I begin to draw. Not their tardiness, but their motion. A shoulder. A blur of sneakers. A tilted head chasing freedom. Feet flickering like seconds. Each mark a pulse. Each smudge a breath. My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing— trembling gently through the mundane. This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed. It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation. It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock. I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you). Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic. Not for polish— but for presence. This is how I remember I’m still alive. Still growing. Still watching. Still choosing to see. Because sometimes mental health looks like a piece of scrap paper, a moving pen, and the simple, sacred act of marking time with wonder.

There’s a lot of waiting in life. Waiting in lobbies. Waiting on answers. Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered. I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe. I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.” It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for? But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.” I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad. Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing. We can be still and deeply active inside. We can pause without being passive. And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head: “That sounds like a first-world problem.” “Speak life.” “Be thankful. Rejoice always.” And she’s right. So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative. Something kind. Something that turns a delay into a doorway.

Lino cut print over pastel. The story goes: The bird fell in love with the whale the first time she saw him break through the ocean’s surface, sunlight dancing on his back. From high above, she sang to him, and deep below, he answered with a song as old as the tides. She longed to dive, to join him in the rolling blue. He wished to rise, to fly beside her in the endless sky. But air and water would not trade places. So each day, at dawn and dusk, they met at the edge of their worlds—she on the wind, he in the waves—singing a love song carried by the breeze and the tide, never together but never apart.

This is a fun piece of art inked paintstakingly with a fountain pen. I enjoyed drawing it, loosely based on a fall pallet. As a fun side note, she has four ears.

The photo captures a shimmering, festive Christmas moment with a beautiful young woman posing in front of a lavishly decorated Christmas tree. She is wearing a glamorous outfit consisting of a sparkling butterfly-shaped crop top and a short white skirt, paired with elegant high heels. The surrounding space exudes a warm, cozy atmosphere with wooden walls, vibrant red ornaments, and green-and-red pennant banners hanging above, creating a lively holiday scene. A black chair nearby, along with festive decorations like a fabric Santa Claus and candy canes, enhances the Christmas spirit. The woman in the image radiates a gentle yet captivating beauty, with her long, flowing black hair and a charming sideways gaze. The combination of modern fashion and a classic holiday setting creates a stunning composition, evoking a sense of warmth and romance. This image is copyrighted and DMCA registered. I strictly prohibit all of you from posting this image on other online forums. If I discover it, you will receive some reports from me. Contact me via: thichminhbaovn@gmail.com

“Where do we draw the line on what is considered as art?”

Truman Capote (1924–1984) He compulsively added numbers in his head, refusing to dial a telephone number or accept a hotel room if the digits made a sum he considered unlucky. “It’s endless, the things I can’t and won’t,” he said. “But I derive some curious comfort from obeying these primitive concepts.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act.” ― Truman Capote #dailyrituals #inktober #TrumanCapote @masoncurrey

“You saved me, my heroine!” For a guy who almost got eaten, he looked way too pleased. “That’s worthy of, well, an award, you know!” He tapped his split lip thoughtfully, lying on the ground as if nothing had happened. “Ah, Zero Year may be over, but I think it’s only fair for me to name a month after you. What do you say?” His impractical coat was all messed up, his hat laying a little to the side, just as dirty and caked with snow. “It’s january, isn’t it? It’s Amberary now! Maybe not for all of Gotham, but for me for sure.” He grinned. What the hell is he saying? Why bringing up those old words? Ridiculous. Amber failed to hold back surprise in her eyes, but she almost managed to stop herself from smiling in time. Almost. He noticed. “… Get up.” --------------------------- Long story short: Amber saved Ed from predators, and he decided to be extra with his flirting. I remembered Edward's words from “Zero Year” about naming months after gothamites heroes and an idea came to me… This scene will definitely be in a fanfic, for which I have an underdeveloped idea, and which I will definitely not write. %) In any case, this is roughly how I imagine ZY!Eddie flirting, in addition to all the other headcanons. My vision of him is too different from ​​how most of the fandom sees him . xD I’m trying to jump above my head again, not having the skill in background, clothes, drapery, and full body, especially since I almost never drew two interacting characters. My most ambitious work so far. But I’m happy!

Woody Allen (b. 1935) I’ve found over the years that any momentary change stimulates a fresh burst of mental energy. So if I’m in this room and then I go into the other room, it helps me. If I go outside to the street, it’s a huge help. If I go up and take a shower it’s a big help. So I sometimes take extra showers. “I think in the cracks all the time,” he has said. “I never stop.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Some guy hit my fender the other day, and I said unto him, 'Be fruitful, and multiply'. But not in those words.” ― Woody Allen #dailyrituals #inktober #Woody Allen @masoncurrey

Very random mind drifting, in a surprisingly good mood today. No matter how much has changed, this figure never dissappears. It continues to be something outside my drawing abilities, appearing as a highly abstract entity.

This piece captures the essence of country life. The detailed lines and shading bring out the rustic charm of the countryside, with a cozy home nestled amidst lush greenery.

Another vampire I created for my world, a few years ago I created Mademe. But she wasn't created as a vampire originally, but since shes mine I can do what I want. She is sexy, powerful, intelligent and she would kill you in cold blood. She stands alongside Aledric (he is still in development), not as a wife but his ally. She is also known as the mother of the clan.

Hi. Am I hard to see? You are free to look closer. This is how I will most frequently present myself as, drawn here in an effort to rejuvenate past drawing abilities . Both Ego and Shadow are delicately present as one, although still not the truly completed form. That is still outside my own grasp within the field of creativity. Everything here has some meaning, including the blank background. A "Domain" in the form of a canvas. The ability to bend reality. A shadow that opens the door to the extraordinary. The simple tools to channel one's creativity. Most importantly, an Avatar of one's being.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Comissions: https://www.fiverr.com/s/6WzyVL Donations: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/ozgaleano Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@OzGaleano?sub_confirmation=1 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Ozgaleano Shop: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/ozgaleano/ TIK TOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@oz_galeano Behance: https://www.behance.net/ozgaleano KO-FI: https://ko-fi.com/ozgaleano/commissions

It’s cold and snowy in Kansas City. I’m working inside for a while.

So this is Quinn, he is another vampire I have created for my new world that is slowly being created. He is another antagonist for Sebastian, although there will be another vampire along side that will give Sebastian hell. Quinn is vampire born within the clan.

There are few survivors on either side when Larry enters the field.

Samuel Beckett (1906–1989) On a late-night walk near Dublin harbor, Beckett found himself standing on the end of a pier in the midst of a winter storm. Amid the howling wind and churning water, he suddenly realized that the “dark he had struggled to keep under” in his life—and in his writing, which had until then failed to find an audience or meet his own aspirations—should, in fact, be the source of his creative inspiration. “I shall always be depressed,” Beckett concluded, “but what comforts me is the realization that I can now accept this dark side as the commanding side of my personality. In accepting it, I will make it work for me.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #samuelbeckett @masoncurrey

Teddy Bear's Change of Seasons - Sophie's Christmas included! Is beautifully written and illustrated, Teddy Bear’s Change of Seasons includes four charming stories, wonderfully rolled into one children’s novel.  Teddy Bear and his friends create magical ways to explore and learn about the snow-white, wonderful world they live in, which changes from summer to autumn and into an unforgettable Christmas.  Teddy’s journey of self-discovery through four seasons, Christmas included, begins in a magnificent old-growth forest, but Teddy is stuck inside a dark and lonely place. His dreams look far away and out of reach, until Teddy rescues a small mouse, who is desperate for help. From this one act of kindness, Teddy's life changes in ways he never imagined, bringing him close friends, a new loving family and the kind of challenges and adventures other teddies have never encountered before.  This is a dream of a book, the perfect snuggle-down bedtime story, accompanied by hot, sleepy cocoa.

I just finished the Calandra Lark. Here are some facts about this beautiful bird... Appearance: It's a large lark, about 17.5-20 cm long, with a robust build, a heavy bill, and noticeable pale eyebrows . Its plumage is mainly greyish-brown streaked above and white below, with large black patches on the breast sides. Habitat: This species is found in open plains, steppes, pastures, and dry cereal cultivations. It's mainly resident in the west of its range but Russian populations migrate further south in winter. Diet: Their main food source is seeds, but they also consume insects when nesting. Behaviour: Calandra Larks are known to be gregarious outside the breeding season, often forming large flocks. Song: Their song is considered musical and slower than the Skylark's. It has been historically popular as a cagebird.

Imagining a cover design for an imaginary self help book. Case in point. LOL. // Playing with text positioning - putting "out" outside of the cloud text bubble for literal applied meaning.

Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) Kant’s biography is unusually devoid of external events. As Heinrich Heine wrote: The history of Kant’s life is difficult to describe. For he neither had a life nor a history. In actual fact, as Manfred Kuehn argues in his 2001 biography, Kant’s life was not quite as abstract and passionless as Heine and others have supposed…. If he failed to live a more adventurous life, it was largely due to his health: the philosopher had a congenital skeletal defect that caused him to develop an abnormally small chest, which compressed his heart and lungs and contributed to a generally delicate constitution. In order to prolong his life with the condition—and in an effort to quell the mental anguish caused by his lifelong hypochondria—Kant adopted what he called “a certain uniformity in the way of living and in the matters about which I employ my mind.” This routine was as follows: Kant rose at 5:00 A.M., after being woken by his longtime servant, a retired soldier under explicit orders not to let the master oversleep. Then he drank one or two cups of weak tea and smoked his pipe. According to Kuehn, “Kant had formulated the maxim for himself that he would smoke only one pipe, but it is reported that the bowls of his pipes increased considerably in size as the years went on.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #ImmanuelKant @masoncurrey

This dhalia flower i tooked a shoot i found beside a river inside a big park in Madrid

Side Face Landscape Illustration by Oz Galeano Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Comissions: https://www.fiverr.com/s/6WzyVL Donations: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/ozgaleano Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@OzGaleano/videos Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Ozgaleano Shop: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/ozgaleano/ TIK TOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@oz_galeano Behance: https://www.behance.net/ozgaleano KO-FI: https://ko-fi.com/ozgaleano/commissions

Side Face Portrait Sketch by Oz Galeano Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Comissions: https://www.fiverr.com/s/6WzyVL Donations: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/ozgaleano Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@OzGaleano/videos Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Ozgaleano Shop: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/ozgaleano/ TIK TOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@oz_galeano Behance: https://www.behance.net/ozgaleano KO-FI: https://ko-fi.com/ozgaleano/commissions