There is an old children song in my language talking about a little girl that his grandpa have a stars tree.. I heard yesterday and just had to draw it!
Favorite words.
Gloaming.
Dusk.
For some reason, makes me think of the opening to Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
It’s easier to remain silent for someone
whose words only ever got twisted.
(spoke in other forms though)
Running from what?
Nothing. And everything.
Until they fell off the edge - or flew-
and plunged into an epiphany where words can’t
even translate,
can’t touch you.
“Don’t you come looking for me”
on the wind.
