one of the hardest things about art, is that. I don't really have the emotional or physical energy to focus on improvement and studies like I used to. It's just working on commissions and giving them the best I can do with the skills I have now- -none of this is a slight against my clients; you

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Follow the ringing cat back home; Mik always leads back home with my husband and our family and what is warm and safe- I always find myself outside of everything in my dreams- a bridge and many roads away that must be walked by foot- sometimes barefoot in the cold snow. Mik runs in front of me.

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I probably would have gone a bit more crazy than I already am; so many of my dreams are repeating the same sequences of familiar places and trying to get home regardless of the danger or my own circumstances and home always feels like just a couple KM away- -that's besides the rage I get because

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a cat with a hilariously large poof of hair that I tend to render as a mohawk, but the main thing with their characterization is that they don't see themselves as a cat, despite how they are portrayed in my dreams as a constant guide towards sanity within the repetitive chaos of my subconscious.

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Kapalı içerik

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