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After a death in the family, a little girl worries that she’s not a proper person because she’s not feeling sad the “correct” way. In fact, she’s having trouble feeling much of anything… maybe it's because she’s not a little girl after all, but a robot?
This story is a story about grief, and how it might feel lonely, and scary and frustrating, before it feels sad.
What inspires me to draw are those brisk days when the wind nips at your cheeks and whispers in your ear. Those niggling feelings that there- just out of sight- is something that rustles the leaves and shifts the grass as it hides from modern eyes. The vast endlessness of a horizon line. The potential of the fantastical. The reminiscence of a history. The optimism of a story. The pessimism of a story. The appreciation of a story. The ability to tell a story.