Sketches @ MindSay 
drawings
You don't know who Melusine is? Look above this blog entry. Her image is right here as a header. She's accompanied by her friend, Grimalkin the Cat.
I think I've finally figured out how Dorathea will look. I like that her hair is like an elongated bob. Her hair jet black, but shiney, the bangs hanging over her eyes almost like a mask or veil. And the red shoes... Hopefully I won't be accused of being like Frank Miller, but if I ever did a graphic novel with these characters, I think I would just have it in black, white, and red. Like an old scary movie with bits and drops of red blood.
More Dorathea sketches.
Alexandre remains elusive in these sketches. He's very gothic yaoi.
A silly idea about Medusa's sister that wouldn't leave me alone until I sketched it!
I've got more images from my sketchbooks to share, but I don't want to overwhelm you all with too much. This is only the tip of the iceberg. I've been busy!
Happy Beltaine!!! Just a few more peeks into my sketchbook today.
I've been reading a lot of books on the Chevalier D'eon lately and, I must say, her life is much more fascinating than I could've ever imagined. Someone needs to make a film or documentary on the life of this unusual character. The Japanese anime that used D'eon as a character who gets possessed by the spirit of his dead sister does his story no justice. You don't need to make it all swords and sorcery set in 18th century France, all you need is the REAL political intrigue and sexual masquerade that surrounded D'eon to make for an enlightening and entertaining story. I think I am in love with him/her. D'eon was probably the world's first transgender celebrity. Plus he was an international man/woman of mystery, a spy for King Louis XV, French ambassador to Empress Elizabeth of Russia, a devout Christian who lived her entire life as a virgin, and was dressed in his age's best finery by order of Marie Antoinette's own dressmaker, the fabulous Rose Bertin who was the world's most powerful fashionista at the time. But there is more to D'eon than you'd ever expect. So much more, I can't begin to write it all down here. I'm thinking of writing an article on her for a magazine sometime this summer. Heck, I could even do a thesis on him... (don'tcha just love how I keep flip-flopping the pronouns?)
After a few visits with my mother, I realize that I have her in my face quite a lot. Blood is, indeed, thicker than water. Drawing my own face over and over again, mixing up all my various parts into one collage of my face, I wrote, "I am not my face and yet it is my fate." No matter how much I try to escape my family, they are there in my face and are part of my life, even though I choose what I want to do with my life.
I only recently learned that Vampira died last January and this really hit my heart harder than I thought. The only way I came across the news was picking up the latest issue of Rue Morgue (my favorite magazine, my second being BUST -- both of which I hope to someday write for, fingers crossed!). So I've begun to draw Vampira a few times in my sketchbook, searching in her face and finding there something that reminds me of myself. She's very proud, stubborn, uncompromising... the kind of bitch queen I wish I could be. But behind the heavy eyelids is a very beautiful woman lurking in the shadows and not afraid of the dark. She's not the kind of fiend you'd find in today's horror films, she is something else altogether that is missing now. And she makes me wish I could host horror and sci-fi show like she did.
After a few sketches of Vampira, I find myself longing for the gothic beauty of really old horror films. Let's forget about the hack and slash and gore and just focus back on the romance of the monster in a cape... yeah. That's what I want to do.
The Thistle Spirit (inspired by myclette ):
I saw a fox with a human face instead of a fox face:
Just a scribble ballerina here:
Nothing prestine, only the raw here. I feel the need to be more productive. I'm self-conscious about sharing my fiction in my last friends-only post. Am I kidding myself? Why the meek esteem? I feel like one of my boobs is hanging out! Or like I just lost control of something... Ack! I gotta walk this feeling off, get some air, and go back to the drawing board better refreshed. I'm better than this feeling.
Dixie currently feels:
Flattened
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Dixie currently looks like this:
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Today it seems I have been in a very odd mood.
Not only have I created several wonderful pieces of creative awesomness, laid on my bed and taken random photos of objects in my room, wrote several paragraphs of gushing and emotive prose - I've also been playing on my Playstation again.
On the way home, I started getting an urge to play Spyro 2 and Crash 3.
I recently started Crash 2 again, a few weeks ago - and got stuck at 95%.
Which is typical, considering I overwrote my 100% save from when I was TWELVE.
Urgh, I just sneezed all over myself.
Tee hee, I hit the space bar.
It's all sticky.
Why does sneeze smell weird, anyway?
...Either way.
I came home, made myself some Turkey Jetters and sat down to play some solid Spyro 2.
Within one and half hours, I already managed to scrape together 39%.
I'm in the 2nd world now, Autumn Plains, with every single level in the 1st world, Summer Forest - completed with all gems, all orbs and all talismans.
I laugh at their feet.
Their feet are made of one single polygon.
Ah, the days of the blocky 1999 graphics.
But I don't care about graphics, it's all about gameplay.
This is my Playstation.
I actually have two, one is chipped and one isn't.
On the chipped one, I only play The Misadventures Of Tron Bonne. - Which is awesome, might I add.
That is my non-chipped Playstation, and it's almost 12 years old.
It's been repaired once, when the centre circle that holds the discs in place cracked into little pieces.
One of the ball bearings fell down underneath the laser.
It makes it rattle when you move it.
To the left, you'll see the stack of games I took down from my carefully organised shelves, the games I plan to play in the next few days.
Crash Bandicoot 2
Crash Bandicoot 3
Spyro 2: Gateway To Glimmer
Bust-A-Move-4
Final Fantasy VII
Under my controller is a stack of printed guides for a lot of different games, along with the official FF7 stategy guide, and a freebie walkthrough booklet for Crash 3.
The wire on that controller has a cut in it.
You can see all the wires on the inside of the plastic coating.
I don't think it's safe, but it still works...
For the moment, anyway.
Here's a little Spyro toy that I got free in a box of Rice Krispies a while ago.
I keep him on the shelf with my Playstation games, along with a few other little figurines from video games, and my cheat booklets and demo discs.
It all looks very decorative and organised - just how I like it.
Here's Spryo, Crash and Pineapple Puppy.
They sit on top of a stack of boxes.
Board games and creative stuff - like Magnetix and Monopoly. :)
Spyro and Crash were won in the 20p prize grabber machines in Scarbrough.
David won 3 Spryos for me - I gave one to Ian and one to Lisa.
They're both on top of their wardrobe in their room with all of Lisa's teddies.
I got Pineapple Puppy last Christmas.
He's a Fur Berry - and he smells like pineapples.
(Well NOR)
His scent is starting to fade, but it's still nice to bury your nose in his neck and inhale the fruity goodness.
Pineapples taste foul, but smell good.
That's my pitiful collection of DVDs.
Though, I do have two volumes of The Super Mario Bros. Super Show, one volume of Sonic Underground - and the Sonic The Hedgehog movie.
Then, there's Barbie As The Princess & The Pauper - which I LOVE. :)
The Snowman and Father Christmas double set is on the end - next to all the freebie preview discs I got free with Nintendo magazines.
On the top are my four Slipknot DVDs.
I haven't watched Voluminal: Inside The Nine yet.
But then, I bought Doshin The Giant for the Gamecube about 7 weeks ago and I still haven't played it.
I haven't even took it out of the box...
Lmao, there's a little Groudon sticker on my shelf there.
Tee hee, look at all my Dandy and Beano annuals.
Some of the Dandy annuals belonged to my brother and some to my uncle.
The oldest one I have is from 1978.
I think the old ones are WAY better than the new ones.
I'm a whore for British comics. :)
I've got a drawer full of the magazines too.
They were so great - only 50p, and sometimes they gave away lollipops and Parma Violets as freebies.
They gave away one of those wall-tumblers before, the ones with the sticky balls on their hands.
That was so much fun. :)
I think I have too many posters on my walls.
I don't have any room for anymore - I've covered every bit of the walls.
I have to leave a little gap of wallpaper between them all though.
I can't stand them overlapping or being crooked.
The white papers stuck to the wall behind my monitor are exam timetables and checklists - so they don't count. :)
How awesome?
I got that in Rhodes.
It's a Vespa - made from PEPSI CANS.
They sold model cars made from cans of beer too.
The drawing above the Happy Tree Friends poster is one of my early bits of artwork.
I had it photocopied in the library - and Emily has a copy of her own on her wall too.
Not bad for a couple of Euros.
I bet the gadges who made them cut their fingers over and over again trying to make them...
Owch, I bet that would KANE!
This is the Baxi boiler.
...Recently, it's been so NOISY.
It makes this PROPER loud RUMBLE noise every 20 minutes.
It makes the floor shake.
It certainly doesn't sound safe.
I stuck Pokémon Staks and Metroid fridge magnets on it. :)
There's some Super Mario World magnets there too, that I got with a Nintendo magazine yonks ago.
The polar bear sat on the telly is called Boggy.
I named him after the polar bear from Freezeazy Peak in Banjo-Kazooie who swallows a Jiggy.
Adam got me him for Christmas a few years back.
His fur is very soft. :)
The polite way of describing this is... A MESS.
For Textiles, we get sheets of paper, and have to stick on drawings and fabrics - then tip paint or ink or whatever all over them.
They call it a "prep-sheet".
I call it "a waste of time".
But I liked this one, so I risked myself losing a few marks for coursework, I took it home with me and stuck it on my wall.
It sums me up nicely. :)
Converse - which took me ages to draw, and I think they're really good renditions - crosswords - which I really like doing - and black ink.
I don't like writing in blue ink at all.
I only like black biros and fountain pens. :)
I can't stand writing in gel pen.
Grrgh, the noise the nibs make on the paper...
Ergh, goes right through me, it does.
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Tomorrow, Adam and I are going to see Sweet Charity.
Not the Broadway or London production, of course.
Some people at my school are doing a rendition of it - including Claire and Sammie, who are in the dance routines.
Steph and Emily are main characters, they're in my tutor.
I dunno, I just really wanted to go. :)
So I got the tickets today, and we're going tomorrow night.
I might sneak mam's camera and take a video of the Big Spender routine. Then I can show you all. :D
Ooooh, Sweet Charity tickets. :)
£2 each - and they come with a pleading message to talk to the representatives of the shitty 6th form they're building between mine and Adam's two schools.
The tickets for the Tuesday show were purple.
The tickets for Thursay's show are red.
It's not fair - I like red.
But the Wednesday show tickets are pink.
How ghey.
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I can't get over how long this blog is - rofl.
Today in the library, I was ramming the whiteboard on wheels into Claire's chair whilst she was trying to do her English coursework.
Then I sat beside her and chewed on her arm, and I drooled all down her elbow.
It was fun. :)
Then I ate her tissue.
It was moist.
She's got a cold, so I'll probably get one now. :)
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I've done two more pieces of artwork.
This is the first one - a scene from chapter 89 of Fire of Glory.
I should have used a black pen for the trousers - but my permanent marker was running out, and I don't have any other black pens, asides from my biros; but they're for small areas.
Even so, I quite like that.
Our poses are a bit camp, like. :)
And here's the 2nd one - a scene from the end of chapter 67.
Though, you could view this picture in many ways....
- You could see it as Emily and Andrew fighting over Dixie, who is in the middle, and Emily is dragging Dixie away forcefully, claiming she is hers.
- Or, you could see it as both Emily and Andrew bullying Dixie - Emily is the leader, whilst Andrew is watching from the sidelines.
- Or, you could see it as Emily has just saved Dixie from being attacked by Andrew, and Emily's sinister glare is directed at the ginger one himself.
Chapter 67 - it's the middle one, but view it however you like. :)
Mrs Mac wants a photocopy of this one too - for the display.
Jeez, my work's gonna be rate public.
I think I've drawn Emily very well proportioned.
She's slim and slender - just how she actually is - and her hair's actually closer to being its true length - as I always draw it too long.
All three of them have very large feet, though.
I'm getting better at drawing Converse, though! :D
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I've been messing on with Photoshop.
One of the pictures I drew of #1263 that's in my black folder - I commented that it looks like she's 50 feet tall.
Claire then did a mock impersonation of a huge #1263 blundering around a city, accidentally stepping on things.
And she gave me the idea to make these:
Photoshopped pictures of #1263 stomping around the city of Toronto!
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- I've started getting back into writing TFATH.
New ideas for plotlines and plot twists have just came to mind of their own accord!
I've got ideas for new characters, new events, new settings and new relationships.
Last night, I did some more work on chapter 4 - and I got 2 scenes written.
So... I shall post a snippet of one of them for you to read:
“…And who are you supposed to be?” Fang sneered, rudely.
Spike growled at him, elbowing him out of the way. “…Don’t listen to him, ma’am - he’s just a common testicle-licking mutt.”
The Azumarill grimaced, averting her eyes from both Fang and Spike - turning her gaze to Dour; who had remained silent in shyness.
“I’ve not seen you around these parts before.” She said, smiling warmly. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“…My n-name’s… D-Dour…” Dour mumbled, stammering nervously as he responded to her question.
“W-What’s yours?”
The Azumarill beamed in pleasure, satisfied by Dour’s politeness. “My name is Azzurri.”
“Azzurri?! What sort of crack-nut name is that?!” Fang snorted, throwing back his head in laughter - before Spike socked him right in the gut as a punishment for being uncouth and tactless.
“…It’s an Italian name.” Azzurri frowned, sticking her nose in the air. “A name of high culture and social class. Of course, you wouldn’t understand that.”
Fang ground his teeth in rage, ready to retort back - but Spike cut in first.
“What does it mean?”
“It’s the Italian form of azure. The colour of my fur - it makes a lot of sense.” Azzurri smiled, seeming pleased that Spike had questioned the reasoning behind her name.
“What’s yours, Mr. Mohawk?” She grinned, staring in amazement at Spike’s rebellious, punk hairdo.
“Ern-… Spike.” Spike said quickly, correcting himself. “Spike Evoli.”
“And what about…?” Azzurri asked slowly - trying to distract herself from looking at Fang, who was attempting to slurp the grime from inside his tummy-button.
“That’s Fang.” Dour answered, also grimacing. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Ms. Azzurri.”
“Oh please Dour!” Azzurri giggled, blushing foolishly. “No snobbish titles for me - just plain Azzurri will do.”
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And to finish, I will post a poem here for my dearest friend Emily.
You were always there when I was sighing,
You were there when my tears needed drying,
You always told me to never stop trying,
Our secrets we kept close, we were never ones for lying,
The knot in our friendship, we kept on re-tying,
On each other, we were always relying,
We’re the best of friends, there’s no denying.
Our relationship is never dying…
Emily dearheart, please stop crying…
Over the weekend, I had a very detailed dream that was so vivid, it felt like I was watching myself star in a surrealist film from the early 1900's. I got up immediately to record it in my sketchbook. The faces of the characters, including myself as an Edwardian mistress, are as fresh in my memory as if they were all real. So this dream comes completely illustrated. Feel free to click onto the images for a full view of them.
The first drawing is of my "dream self" -- here is a transcript of what I wrote next to the drawing: "When I saw myself, I realized I was in another time and I was a different woman, yet my eyes were the same. I was stiff and sore -- my waist cinched into the Gibson Girl "S" shape -- as I saw myself, I began to forget who I really am NOW."
Everything took place at a crossroads near a railroad. I could hear the steam and whistle of the rail cars from nearby. It was early evening, I was literally stuffed into my dress, I had to take careful steps to not lose my balance as I walked up to a crooked-looking little building near the Wisconsin River. It was a brothel! I saw a line of other women entering the building, all of them chatting excitedly to one another. I saw my friend, Miya, there but she did not look entirely "real" -- she was dressed up like a doll and her eyes were larger than life. 
She was incredibly petite, less than five feet tall, with a wasp waist and bubbly blonde head of hair that seemed more like a cloud of feathers than real hair. She was clearly the most attractive, and the strangest looking of all the girls gathered in front of the brothel. This is how they appeared, all lined up and waiting for something to happen, as if they all stepped out of a fashion plate from 1908.
As I drew how Miya's 1900-era alter-ego looked liked, I wrote a little something on her collar -- it's like my handwriting forms a sort of lace pattern similiar to the one that covered her collar. Here's what I wrote: "Miya looked like a doll with large eyes and bee-stung lips like Mae West or Clara Bow impersonating a child in 19th century dress. When we met Mrs. Hawthorn and the girls, I knew we were in for an adventure!" But what kind of adventure? Were we truly "working girls?" As I lost myself inside the body of my 1900's self, I began to feel light headed and slightly dizzy, especially as we walked up the stairs to the building. Inside the place was cramped and tiny. We almost had to crawl up the stairs and it seemed to take us forever to get to the little room at the top of the stairs where we were scheduled to meet the mysterious Mrs. Hawthorn.
Mrs. Hawthorn was a statuesque figure with a long nose. She wore a wine and gray striped dress dated from a previous decade (1890's) and she seemed to be a woman of means. This is what I wrote about her as I drew her: "Mrs. Hawthorn was all business and nonsense." It was as if she were mad. She told us that our duties were to take care of the plants in the house. But from the angle I viewed her at, it seemed that the building was all one long, narrow staircase up to one tiny room, as if we were at the top of a tower, and there were no plants to be seen. "You'll be working around me, not with me," she said, "Remember your plants, do not confuse them with planets!" As we stood there beside her, the two windows in the tiny room started to light up from sunlight. As the room brightened, Mrs. Hawthorn lowered her voice into a grim growl of warning, "And watch out for the Top Hat Man. He likes to steal flowers."
As soon as she warned us about this man, we began to hear someone singing. It was a man's voice coming from the street below and beyond the confines of the tight little room we were in. There was the immediate sense of danger and panic. The voice was getting closer and closer. Miya began to cry. Her tears fell in streaks of black. I tried to mop up her tears, but this only smeared up her made-up face. "It's the Belladonna," Miya cried, "I think I put too much into my eyes. I might be to blame for him. He can reach me because of my eyes!" This was why her eyes were so large -- the juice of this plant had dilated her eyes to a freakish extent, a cosmetic use that was popular from ancient times.
I told Miya not to worry, that somehow we'll manage to get out of this dilemma. Mrs. Hawthorn advised us to stay inside the confines of the room, but it was so crowded in there with us and the other women, that it was going to be impossible for us to stay away from the door. As we heard the man's voice drift up louder and louder from the stairs beyond, it seemed we were doomed. He was coming for us. Yet for a dangerous man, his voice was exceedingly charming and comforting, like a blanket for sore ears. Other voices started to pipe up for our attention, a chorus of other men's voices, perfectly singing in tune and adding more charm to the lead singer's voice. I was curious, yet frightened to see what this man had to look like. As we tried to steady our ground and keep away from the edge of the door, Miya's baby doll dress edged out over the threshold and a tiny pink hand grabbed at her. As she brushed it away, a tiny man with a bright green top hat and long white hair appeared. He was barely five inches tall and seemed not to be that big of a threat physically, but that was just it: he was a magical creature, like a Leprechaun of Irish legend, but he had nothing to do with shoes, he was a singer and he started to remind me of someone I had once loved... that was the danger. I found myself falling for his charming voice... Infact, all the women in the room were beginning to swoon!
This was how his song went:
"Oh, Dear Ladies,
my love is a
spring flower's petals
on the wind!
If you hook me onto your hem,
I will trail behind you
inside your SHADOWS,
windows,
swallows...
fixures
and
spindles!
Do not faint, Dear Ladies,
when my perfume turns to milk,
for I will love you into SILK
and martyr you
with my PISTOL
before you WILT!"
Directly behind the little Top Hat Man was a rather large hamster boy playing a broken-looking guitar. All around the hamster were four other little men dressed in green with beady eyes, "...And so we've been gathered for your cheer...!" They sang so loudly for such little creatures. And they kept changing in and out of flower form. Sometimes their heads were petals, at other times their legs were stalks, their arms leaves, their necks twisting and turning like vines, and then their bodies relaxed back into humanoid form, all of them dressed in 19th century suits. For me to draw them in all their plant forms would take me too long to achieve. So you'll have to just imagine how trippy it was to see this sort of thing going on.
As the women in the room all began to be beguiled by this chorus of little men, I knew I had to do something to end the spell. Mrs. Hawthorn whispered to me, gritting her teeth against the charming song, "You'll have to grab HIM inbetween the floorboards and door knob. Show him some ankle or neck to confuse him." I wasn't sure what she meant, so I haphazardly stepped half way out of the room while still standing inside the room. I was in between spaces. This was how I managed to get the Top Hat Man to jump into my hand. I pulled him into the room and he turned into a big messy glob of mistletoe seed. I turned to 
Miya for help. I knew she knew about these things better than I. "Anyone know a cure for Mistletoe?" I asked her. She ripped apart the hem of her dress to wrap the Mistletoe seed into a sack. "It's Lavender!" She answered. Meanwhile the seed squirmed and screeched inside the makeshift sack formed from Miya's dress fabric. The fabric was a sheer white, so I could see what was going on inside. I noticed that the mistletoe seed was forming into a full size human head of the Top Hat Man. We only had a few moments to squash him. "I don't have any Lavender on me!" I moaned with self pity, "I only have some at home." "You have to move him to the window sill!" Mrs. Hawthorn demanded, "He can only be destroyed in the between spaces." So even without Lavender, I knew I could defeat him.
Miya held open the window long enough for me to slide the sack underneath the sill, then we both slammed it onto the Top Hat Man's half-mistletoe, half-human head. We slammed the window over and over again over his head. Amazingly, there was no blood or mess. He kept trying to sing through the sack. He was silenced into gradual muffles of song, but by the time we were smashing him, the spell was broken and the other little men disappeared.
After the destruction of the Top Hat Man, everything sort of melted back into contemporary life. I found myself walking down a street lined with white houses. I was no longer my 1900's self, I was back to being normal Val. In one of the white houses, I saw Miya's daughter, Rowan, peeking out from a couch behind a big window. She wore a "kitty" mask that looked to be of her own creation. Inside I heard a commotion and the front door opened to reveal a clown-like Miya dressed in old-fashioned bloomers, pointy slippers, and a T-shirt with a big tree printed on it with the roots of the tree stretching over her pregnant belly. Her hair was all in springy cork screw curls. I could see other people in the house looking out at me from the windows. Miya told me that she had a lot of company over and that she really shouldn't leave home, but "Only I know the way back from the Crossroad," she said, "Jonathan, Eric, Robert, and Aaron will look after all the kittens." I told her I wanted to see the kittens first, so she happily led me into her house into a back room that literally looked like a nursery but it was filled with cats that didn't have fur, they had knitted yarn for fur. Their eyes were real, but their bodies were clothed with yarn in intricate designs and colors, like no other cats in real life have! I attempted to draw the "kittens" but nothing I drew came close to capturing how these things looked like. "Can they breathe like that?" I asked Miya. She just giggled at me and said, "of course! You think I wouldn't design them without lungs?"
After we made our good-byes to the boys and Rowan, Miya and I walked into the woods towards a railroad crossing. I soon found myself almost back to the start of the dream. As we approached the railroad, our dress began to change. Miya and I found ourselves in matching ball gowns to die for! The trail of our dresses hissed with the heaviness of pearls and jewels sewn into the silk and taffeta. Just beyond the railroad crossing was Lake Michigan. The seagulls flying over head were larger than life. One deep brown gull was pretending to be an eagle and it kept swooping over us trying to tear at our ball gowns. Well, we weren't going to fall for that. We picked up twigs from the ground and waved the bird away. When this didn't work, Miya suggested that we kiss to scare it. How this would fend off the bird's attack, I don't 
know, but we gave it a shot. Our kiss was awkward, like the kind of kiss you'd give to an actor while on stage, and even though it was fake and done without feeling, the kiss did distract the big brown seagull enough to make it lose its balance and crash into a building. When it "exploded" into the building, suddenly the landscape changed and we stood before a black and lavender painted Victorian tavern with a sharp pointed tower. When we looked at this place, our heads began to swoon with love. We had to go into that place! But a feeling of dread overcame my immediate desire. I wasn't sure it was that good of an idea, so I made Miya go first and I tugged on the trail of her dress, hiding my face in her puffy sleeves.
Yet somehow I managed to at least take the lead at opening the door to the tavern. As soon as I opened the door, I was shocked to see the Top Hat Man in fully human size. He was totally drunk and slumped over the bar. Beside him was one of the little men who had performed as part of his chorus. He had big fox ears and the hair at the top of his head was formed into a blonde crescent moon shape with the back of his hair dark as midnight. He also had puffy sideburns and was dressed like a chimney sweep. He was just as surprised to see us as we were to see him. I slammed the door closed and Miya and I had just enough time to hide into a corner in the alleyway, both of us shaking with girlish fear -- you know the kind of fear you get when you're trying to hide from a boy you've got a crush on? It was that kind of anxiety. But we could not hide from this creature.
"It's alright, I know who you are and why you are here, ladies," the fox-eared man gently spoke to us, "it's no use hiding from me. I can smell your hearts beating." A little embarassed, Miya and I tried to relax. I was in so much awe of this man, that I couldn't speak. He introduced himself as Moonhoof and revealed that he has been recording what we've been going through over the last several years. "Don't chase after the one who chased you," he advised, "it's for your own good. I only wanted to protect you from him. That's the one reason why we are speaking now." He also revealed that he betrayed the Top Hat Man by "letting loose the elf-locks of Valentina's hair" but he couldn't stand to see me suffer no more.
"Live a life without enchantment and you lose hope," he went on to say, "but to live a life with enchantment is to embrace another truth." After he said this, I awoke. Knowing this was a very significant message, I became determined to record the faces I had dreamt in my sketchbook. And that is also why I posted it here. Oh, and I forgot to mention, when Miya and I smashed the Top Hat Man's head in the window sill, we were convinced that it would end prostitution forever. I don't know why. Perhaps we're both dealing with feminist issues in our daily lives lately?
By the way, Miya was right: Lavender cured my migraines this weekend. Maybe that's another thing this dream was telling me. For some reason nothing was making my headaches go away. The only thing that worked was bathing myself in lavender.
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