Сочинение на тему My artwork.

(This is a bit philosophical, sorry)
When I was 3, my mom taught me how to hold a brush and ever since that day, the brush is still in my hands. I have attended Art school for 10 years now and I feel as if art is not something I would like to do after school, it is my life. I love drawing people, every single wrinkle and every single stretch mark. We are so alike yet so different. When I sketch a face, I always start the same, but then my pencil moves to capture the shadows of the cheekbones, the emotion in the eyes, the hairline whether it is receding or still as full of hair as a teenager's head. I feel as if what I draw becomes me as if that is what I intended to do since the day my mom gave me that brush. My artwork. I want to do art. No, it is not enough. I want to live it, not just paint. I want to be in it, be the one who tells a story through each line and every colour. No words, just pictures, shadows, splashes. I want to live, breath, drink art; not just draw.