What can I recognise?

One way in which I try to make sense of my curious difficulty to "put things into focus" is to try to define them by means of limits, by means of what I "think" I recognise. In spite of the feeling that the meaning is always slipping away, I'm sure that I can define a shape following outlines that can at least suggest its meaning.
I usually draw people because by looking at other people I can recognise the lack of focus.

Elusive reality.

How can you define something that you are only grasping at?
How can you use outlines to define, or try to define, what you see?
Can you fulfil your wish to define parts of everything that seems to exist?
If someone who looks at me can add value to my existence, how can I avoid the claims of others when they look at me?
My view of things is often confused, as are my actions. My attention gets caught in the gaps between things. Are these marks, which outline and appear to define, an attempt to understand?

Gathering shapes, exhausting outlines.

I wear glasses because I'm short-sighted. (When I take off my glasses I can't even make out his face that I love). The adjustment to my eyes enables me to do many things – to see, observe, recognise: in short, to have the "illusion" of being able to put reality into focus. But if I take off my glasses, I take off the skin of things, perceiving shadows, smells, sounds, memories.
Not being able to recognise things gives you the possibility of uncertainty and the interpretation of that uncertainty. Alternatively what one can't recognise can be "elsewhere", in the realms of imagination or memory.

Does defining realty mean trying to understand it?

Can the understanding of reality be made easier by trying to define it "permanently" by using some kind of marker? The outline, with its excessive significance, can also elude the person making it. Drawing is not the same as tracing; it is one way of trying to define a perception as a recognisable entity. I have given my eyes the freedom to think for themselves, and my imagination the pleasure of discovering relationships. There are numerous ways of interpreting this wonderful deception.

Being out of focus.

Sometimes imagination plays unpleasant tricks: it can cloud what seemed distinct, put things back into focus, and sometimes change the meaning by inverting the terms of reference – black on white, a line (of something) – white on black, a gap (between things).
The incongruence of events shapes, and misshapes, their definition – not only about their being but also their reality. But also the facts themselves can be questioned to the extent that one has to ask what substance the world is made from. Perceiving the absence of facts offers the possibility of finding a "positively abstract" definition by drawing with outlines.
The result? The fake look which you believe to be real could be interpreted as a substitute, the result of deceiving oneself during a kind of state of grace – by no means saving – inherited from an incoherent childhood.

Eyes. Hair. Mouth. A meeting. Is she smiling? He seems sad. They're probably friends. Do I know them? What a look! Whose is it? Who is he?

I use a depth-guage to identify things.
Otherwise it's pure imagination.