EDIT: I finally uploaded a proper scan for this deviation. Plus it's a PNG. Basically, it ain't gonna get better. Still, some ill-lit detail shots are in SCRAPS. Micron pens, pencil, arcylic, arcylic ink, & watercolor.

Well, apparently my life has turned into a Bunuel film.

I had a lover at Tavistock Square while I lived in England. She gave me one night, like Goldie to Marv. She was in love with her own lost lover. I don't have anger or regret over this. The one thing I've learned from this catastrophe, which happened basically on her doorstep, is that the only thing that matters is intimacy. The "big picture" is a lie. There is no such thing as a country. There is no such thing as a movement. There is no such thing as anything except this: you and the people right next to you. Every decision comes down to our physical selves interacting with what's immediately present, at some point. We all have the power to say, "I will not be cruel." I will not be unfair to my neighbor, I will not be obnoxious to my strangers, I will not be selfish in my family, I will not press the button. I will not.

I hope none of my present lovers resent me for representing this memory. This is MY memory, however, I am in the third (as the legs) and fourth (as the anticipating mouth) frame (going left to right, top to bottom) -- and thus I feel I have MY discretion in sharing it. (Edited because I can't fucking count.)

I'm gonna let people comment on it as an art piece. I am okay with that now.