backyardrobot

Often I wish I could do drawing or animation as fanart. All I can do is write and make silly little guys out of felt. Behold, the silly little guys!

“I hadn’t met his kind before. His misericord face – really, like a joke on his father – blurred as if from years of polish; his hands like curled dry leaves; the profligate heat he gave out, gave out, his shallow, careful breaths: I thought his filaments would blow, I thought he was an emperor, dying on silk cushions. I didn’t know how to keep him wrapped, I didn’t know how to give him suck, I had no idea about him. At night I tried to remember the feel of his head on my neck, the skull small as a cat’s, the soft spot hot as a smelted coin, and the hair, the down, fine as the innermost, vellum layer of some rare snowcreature’s aureole of fur, if you could meet such a beast, if you could get so near. I started there.”

Middle age man, chewed up by life, emotional damage up to the ears, looking like something the cat puked on the carpet.