Loupiote

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled “do not stand at my grave and weep” after the poem by mary elizabeth frye. the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

– Melissa Cox

"I'm homesick all the time," she said, still not looking at him "I just don't know where home is."

– Sarah Addison Allen, The Girl Who Chased the Moon

"I want to go home, but I don't know where it is."

Hello! My name is Jessica, and I’m an artist and illustrator who loves drawing fast, loose and fun, making silly and expressive drawings of flowers, nature and sometimes cute little animals wearing hats!  Important links:

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But one thing I love so much is being told that something is unattractive, and believing that is true your whole life, and then finding someone with that trait who you love so much that you realize that it is beautiful, and it stays beautiful, and every time you come across it you are genuinely swayed where you stand.

A man I love has a large, crooked nose. woman I love has black hairs on her chin. A person I love has frequent breakouts. A woman I love is fat. A person I love has a speech impediment. A man I love has a tic.

Before I loved them, I might have nodded along and said that sure, these things are fine. These things could be beautiful, in theory, in a distant, abstract way. And I would have kept on seeing them, and not thinking much, and felt nothing.

Now, though, a snore heard two doors down puts my heart at ease. Pockmarks make my eyes wander and my face grow warm. I want to trace my fingers over moles and keloid scarring and draw little sketches of blown-out, faded tattoos. I want soft lighting and charcoal to capture rolls and a belly. I find I've become drawn to a stranger's stutter on the train.

I think that the idea that "beauty is only skin deep" and "It's what's inside that counts" is fine enough, but they're flawed sentiments because they fail to fully articulate how real beauty, the kind that makes hearts beat harder and mouths go dry, doesn't always come from you.

You don't need to do anything. You don't need to smooth out your wrinkles or flatter your figure or make your mind and body palatable for consumption.

Everything we are might be breathtaking to someone who has loved before, and that thought brings me so much hope and joy.

Every artist who sees this post should do the following:

- Watch the video.

- Follow the instructions

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