Fufillment

It is finished.  And, I am pleased with it. Some of my lines are crooked, which bothered me when I was working, my face hovering inches from the paper; but, when I stand back and look at my piece, I can say that it is finished.  I am satisfied.  
I enjoyed the project for the most part; the contrasts of the darks and lights reminded me of my piano at home, imparting in me a sense of familiarity.  But there were many episodes of frustration, which made it necessary to take breaks.  
In the beginning, I made sure my pencils were extremely sharp, but as they were whittled down by each stroke, I decided I liked the way the lines looked when they were not extremely precise.  
What was the point of the exercise?  To focus on the strength of one's hand when applying each and every mark to the paper?  To attempt to draw as many of the infinite variations of marks as possible?  To take a very simple task-drawing a line- and study it closely so that every detail of the action becomes significant?  
When given this project, I thought it would be a mindless task.  However, I was surprised to find that it was not mindless at all. In fact, it took all my concentration.  So, what have I learned? Something so simple in appearance and execution is not truly simple when standing alone.