Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Friday, 6 September 2013
The nesting chook amongst the hay,
Shut inside on a sultry day,
Dreams of claws and scaly armour,
And of eating Andy Todd the farmer.
A set of teeth replaced her beak,
Her talons glistened, sharp and sleek,
And mammals fell beneath her claws,
And squeaked their last between her jaws.
Sunday, 1 September 2013
It was too hot, so all the trees, the stalls, and the other people melted as I was drawing them.
By the end we were floating in white space, just us and the sun, which was weird.
Also, there was no shade.