Today we have been mostly dying. Terrible business, eh?
So now we shall nap, lost and long and tangle-ways. Then I shall draw gentle beasts and write notes to the friendly faces that write to me.
Chin chin. Sleep sleep.
Anonymous asked: Good evening sir. Your owls are pretty. I like them. Little things of fluff.
Yes yes fluff fluff. Little pockets of particulars and tiny bones and spaces.
Strange things, birds. All dinosaur and twisty flapping. I am often in the Pitt Rivers museum in Oxford, tapping on the tiny bird skulls and searching for messages in the feathers. Perhaps I shall see you there doing something awkward and similar.
I do not know the greysong. Not awful well, just passing parts in the dark dark dawn. Perhaps I wander past you on or between those two bridges. I often stoop and snooze with the ducks. They do not seem to mind, though I do not tend to wake them. And there are those trees, that swirling part, that buzzing box. You might be there also. Do please feel alright about saying hello, or waving, or pressing your fingers on me, to check on my parts or my pulse or my pain. That would be a niceness and I expect we would go find some cake and firewater and get married. What a baffling day.
lump of love ii
(are we ok?)
beast study beast
27589 asked: i would like to buy one of your drawings very much, even if you drew on a post it or a leaf i would probably buy it. they’re very beautiful and calming. much love to you, x
Thank you for being all nice.
lllikeadream asked: how do you sell/ship your work?
Well there is a website here. It is a real electric place where you can buy prints of drawings, or ask me to put an original on there and I will do that for you. I ship them with some love, I blink into the bag or the envelope and I am awful polite and charming to the post office peoples, because they can be a touch prickly if you don’t know how to rub their ear and cradle their belly. Then someone takes it to your house.
Unless you insist I bring it myself, in which case I will need you to keep a bottle of firewater and a bag of bird seed on the porch.
Busy with giant ruinous heads and examining arms. The bits of us that move and the bits that do the moving.
But this is for you, dear dear, because I rather like you - all blinky eyes and pink nose and the scuttle and chirrup of your brain. So there it is. Here it is. Press it to your warmest parts, if you fancy, the night will get colder still.
Hermann plays the strangest games.
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Hello. You can buy things here. There are a couple of new prints on there for you to nibble.
I do hope things are gentle and not too shameful for you today. Sundays do tend to lumber and lollop, following Saturday like a great idiot brother, all thumbs and thighs.
She was seen. I saw her, I mean, tiny teeth and spindlefingers. And when you watch a thing you either drift and disappear, or become a grumpy clumping beast. Strange ways, both. Still, she pushed and skimmed her shoes across the floor, shinier than it needed to be, and then lost her hands in her pockets, pressed them flat against her legs, to remember where they were, how they went, and what they needed to do for the moving. She kept going, which was pleasing. I was pleased for her. Moving forwards and straightly can become the tricksiest little pop.
