Miguel de Cervantes lets his working pen rest on his tongue, and unintentionally, blood, his essence, flows out and mixes with the ink. He falls onto the horse and a different being begins to form, a strange Rocinante. But he is being portrayed, so Cervantes pays attention to the portraitist no matter what.

The most fun part was drawing each little feather hair, that texture gently rippling in the breeze was very satisfying.