All the weekends spent at the machine - pulling out and grinding the details. The result: I go home on the bus on Sunday evening and the look stops at one man with a pimple on his nose. My first thought was about the drinker. The second is about a big swallow. Then I went back to reality and decided that Photoshop would be easier. And then it came to me that he was still a man and he could not be so with him.