Back in Boston, I used to draw people on the train. It wasn’t every day, but whenever I remembered, I would draw at least one person on my commute home from work. I used a lined pocket notebook from Flying Tiger Copenhagen, a small shop in Downtown Crossing selling knick-knacks and stationery. The notebook was inexpensive and had cream-colored pages, small enough to draw in and put away once I arrived at my stop on the train.

I remember standing at the Orange Line train platform, nervous to pull out my notebook and draw whoever was in front of me. Just one person, Cecilia, I encouraged myself, just draw one person and you’ll be happy you did. Most times, the drawings wouldn’t come out that great. But other times, I surprised myself with how I captured an expression or posture.

Some of my friends ask me if any one of my commuter models ever noticed that I was drawing them. The answer is yes. Sometimes they looked away, acted like they didn’t see me. Others took the liberty to communicate with their expression that I better stop drawing them. But there were magical moments, too.

Once, a woman with very curly hair came up to me curious about what I was doing. I was afraid she was going to yell at me for drawing her, but she smiled and said, “I am honored to be one of your subjects.” It made my heart bubble over. Her name was Jodie. It was moments like this that made drawing even more worth it. I connected with people and walked away with an overwhelming sense of belonging.

I will be posting other drawings from Boston every now and then. I want you to see them!