There's a big drop of black ink spilled near the center... It's like that bit of ink just couldn't wait to be part of the art. Sometimes a rough sketch takes on a life of its own.
My husband has a chronic illness and frequently spends weeks in the hospital. I have been doodling each day while sitting with him and many of them reflect my thoughts at the time. Often appearing are desperation, hope, frustration, sarcasm, fear.
The man with a vast red hat met a flower on the pad and asked, "Are you my dad?" The flower said, "No. I'm not the one, but I'll pretend I'm your dad if you'll pretend you're my sun."
