30 x 22" | charcoal, conte, and acrylic gesso on paper
Sometimes the neighborhood cat comes to visit me. Sometimes we share a can of sardines. Sometimes he wanders in the borderland, where the bushes are uncut and the leaves crinkle underfoot.
Puddy lived to be an old man. He was thin and agile. Athletic to the end. And so sweet. Should I also live to be an old man, I wish to be like Puddy.