write this it's very late at night. I can hear the sound of a
car spinning its tires and getting nowhere in the night.
It's been snowing heavily since this morning, and the city
is transformed. My youngest is supposed to be getting on
the all night bus, and coming home for Christmas. But
I'm afraid he may have to wait a day.
I've been painting up a Skype drawing I did of my son
Christopher. The angle of the drawing is so bizarre that
I probably should have stuck to markers. Somehow the
markers read with strange angles and odd perspective.
I still like it, because I like the serious look on my
I'm also including a fast sketch I did of my brother
when I was talking to him on Skype last night. He
lives in Ottawa. His face is one of the faces stuck
in my iconic library. I know it. I see it, and the
familiar lines are second nature to me. He was
excited by the Skype discovery.
It's very late and I must call it a day.
Have a what-do-you-mean?-I-think-snow-is-fun! day.