My husband’s old, well-worn, butter-soft, brown leather jacket. I hung it on a hook in the utility room, the place with a) a hook and b) most light in the morning. I had a happy hour or two, sitting amongst the mountains of ironing and listening to the swish of the washing machine churning.
Drawn with Prismacolor pencils on yellowish calligraphy paper. The paper proved totally useless for calligraphy, as the ink bleeds into the fibres. However, it has been re-born as a great surface for coloured pencil.