to be a child . . .
to reclaim love, life and magic

but why . . .

what makes a child . . .

whispers . . .

thoughts . . .

it's a good question, and i don't know if i have an answer. this place exists because i want it to exist, because i want to nurture it, love it, make it grow into a child. i want it to be crude, i want to be free. this place is my place, like my sketchbooks, like my spirit, and just like all of them, i'll fight to keep it mine. i'll only ever leave if i failed and drowned in adulthood, if it stops being a refuge from it or if something happens to the entire infrastructure that keeps me connected to it.

i was taught to be a very obedient child of civilization. the perversion in this expression... i was taught all manner of ridiculous things that i won't bother listing. i've been pretending to be an adult for far longer than my heart can take. i started to draw to find the child that craves to come out. i know she'sthere, but she's still not out. but something connected me to her for just a brief moment, and it was enough. the craving was feral, and the adult struggled. i needed to give her space, and out of it this was born.

i'm here to share my creation, my thoughts and my love. i'm here to build a home

and i'm here to share if i ever find a way to let her free.