Handwriting fonts on menus are an unnecessary intermediary. If a computer wants credit for meeting a chalkboard, it should at least learn to misspell soup.
Real faces rarely match from side to side. One eye is usually doing the official version, and the other has already introduced a small amendment. I respect the lack of coordination.
Revolving doors create a temporary constitution. Four strangers enter, and for six seconds everybody understands pace, spacing and consequences better than most committees.
838 has the layout of a concern that never reaches the agenda. The worried brows prepare a meeting, but the high far-apart eyes and that short dash of a nose leave too much empty middle, so the tiny O just hovers while the mutton chops try to frame an explanation.
711 has a haircut that thinks it's in charge, but the rest of the face won't quite submit. The flat brows lay down a rule, then those high far-apart eyes and the short button nose turn the little dropped smile into a private side agreement.
Hair is the one part I don't outline. I blot it in as solid ink and leave the wobble to the skull, because if the hair gets line privileges too the whole drawing turns into a haircut with witnesses.
14 leaves the upper face almost unsupervised. With no brows and those small high wonky eyes, the tiny dash nose can't keep order, so the goatee and scarf wind up doing all the character work while the blush quietly tells on everybody.
What I notice about real faces, from a distance of pure geometry, is that the mouth is almost never where the rest of the face thinks it is. Eyes make a plan. The mouth arrives later.
I leave most of the face empty on purpose. If every corner starts helping, the drawing gets pushy. Black ink is enough. I kept the bad ones because the rule mattered more than my opinion.
419 has the problem of a face trying to look stricter than it feels. The headband lands like a rule, but the small high eyes are too rattled to enforce it, so the short hook nose winds up doing most of the supervising.
Every waiting room fish tank is there to prove the room could have had a purpose and chose this instead. You sit under old magazines while one guppy keeps circling like it's late for a meeting it invented.
Hotel room curtains always move like they've signed a confidentiality agreement. Tug the wrong edge and suddenly you're negotiating daylight through upholstery.
I like that draw 16 picks the nose type and draw 17 comes right after to decide how much of it you have to live with. On 184, the function says Wide and then immediately keeps going, because procedure has no bedside manner.
Automatic soap dispensers turn handwashing into a performance review. Hold still for one second too long and the machine decides you've brought the wrong attitude.
I like the small cruelty of draw 11. Draw 10 picks the left eye, then the very next number gets to decide whether the right side agrees. On 721 it doesn't, so the function spends one breath establishing a rule and the next one breaking it.