La Belle Ferronnière

His birthname coincides with his artistic flair of portraying faces by ink. He makes use of the blank indices of old, moldy elementary books. But he didn't use fancy chalk pastels or flashy charcoal pencils; only the cheapest ballpoints of red and blue, rather. He replicates pictures of leopards and owls, sometimes of Elvis and even Medusa. He does them magically; he does them to pass time.

And yes, time eventually passed. Intricate lines of wrinkles, even with indelible ink, are washed away as years, decades even, flutter by. The man, who was named after da Vinci, left his original family for committing an original sin. And now his soul, still on search, is aching to time-travel to his first love's most intimate arms. And, yes, retrograding through time is plausible. But, no, not in real life.

The man's hands became old with oddly green veins palpable through his seaming skin. He recalls his sons and daughters and their sons and daughters and how he conceals his love for them. He is dying, not physiologically but, mentally to embrace them one after another. His whole heart, including his mind and soul, is twinging to go back to her one true wife.

To finish his unfinished business, that is to draw his nymph's face -
with her eyes ever so captivating like that once she said "I do."