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Description
EDIT: Please also view the coloured version here .

The sun fell away from the sky a few hours ago and everything went dark, as it's still far too early in spring for the glorious colours of sunset to animate the horizon. And it's still cold, as the icy fingers of winter have yet to relinquish their hold on the night. But I almost like the cold, the way it tingles and burns with an intensity that matches the fervor in my eyes. What was once a roaring fire though, has died down to a glimmer of embers. Still too hot to touch or hold. Just like the rest of me.

So here I am, alone again with solitude as my only friend. I just wish he talked more. There's not even the sound of birds chirping, I guess it must still be too early and too cold for them. Usually I can hear the mating calls of the frogs, but that's usually only at home.

At the park, there's no marshy culverts for them to convert into little froggy motel rooms. There is however, the sharp scent of pine lingering in the air. I used to hate that smell, as it reminded me of broken promises and unfinished dreams. But now, I've just gotten used to it. That's what life is all about, isn't it?

It's not complete silence though. The rumble of passing cars with their hi-beams piercing through the mask of nightfall remind me just where I am: American Suburbia. Well, Canadian to be precise, but is there really so much of a difference between the two? We seem to become more alike our neighbours with every passing day, our national identity melting away like the wax of a lit candle.

The scuff of my shoe against the gravel, a grey silent and unforgiving stone, reminds me of why I'm really here.

Gripping the metal chains tightly with my hands, I hoist my entire body upwards, lifting the seat of my jeans from the well-worn black rubber of the swing. I can feel the burn in my arms, the familiar ache as I hold myself suspended not even a foot from the ground. Slowly but surely I start to relax and the descent begins until once more I come to rest on the seat of the swing. Twirling a little, I can hear the chain links clink against one another, reminding me of just how quiet it is. And there is no one here but me. No one to give me a push. No one to pretend everything is alright. There is only me.

Prose provided by my brother; visit his blog for more great writing.

Maybe she's getting too old for playing with swings. But I don't think you can ever be too old to enjoy sitting on one. Ultimate Nostalgia trip.

I think I like drawing her so much because she has a rather versatile personality. Its easy to imagine her both mischievous and extroverted or moody and melancholy. At least her physical appearance is starting to get consistent anyways.

I used a larger size of paper to draw it so I got to add more details then usual. Unfortunately it no longer fit in the scanner so the sides got a bit cropped out - ah well, those parts weren't drawn that well anyways. The full resolution download is similarly absurdly gigantic. I love the scanners at the university.

Douglas firs are crazy strange to draw. Got to love Canadian vegetation.

Character profile here . Its getting a bit dated, though.

Description
EDIT: Please also view the coloured version here .

The sun fell away from the sky a few hours ago and everything went dark, as it's still far too early in spring for the glorious colours of sunset to animate the horizon. And it's still cold, as the icy fingers of winter have yet to relinquish their hold on the night. But I almost like the cold, the way it tingles and burns with an intensity that matches the fervor in my eyes. What was once a roaring fire though, has died down to a glimmer of embers. Still too hot to touch or hold. Just like the rest of me.

So here I am, alone again with solitude as my only friend. I just wish he talked more. There's not even the sound of birds chirping, I guess it must still be too early and too cold for them. Usually I can hear the mating calls of the frogs, but that's usually only at home.

At the park, there's no marshy culverts for them to convert into little froggy motel rooms. There is however, the sharp scent of pine lingering in the air. I used to hate that smell, as it reminded me of broken promises and unfinished dreams. But now, I've just gotten used to it. That's what life is all about, isn't it?

It's not complete silence though. The rumble of passing cars with their hi-beams piercing through the mask of nightfall remind me just where I am: American Suburbia. Well, Canadian to be precise, but is there really so much of a difference between the two? We seem to become more alike our neighbours with every passing day, our national identity melting away like the wax of a lit candle.

The scuff of my shoe against the gravel, a grey silent and unforgiving stone, reminds me of why I'm really here.

Gripping the metal chains tightly with my hands, I hoist my entire body upwards, lifting the seat of my jeans from the well-worn black rubber of the swing. I can feel the burn in my arms, the familiar ache as I hold myself suspended not even a foot from the ground. Slowly but surely I start to relax and the descent begins until once more I come to rest on the seat of the swing. Twirling a little, I can hear the chain links clink against one another, reminding me of just how quiet it is. And there is no one here but me. No one to give me a push. No one to pretend everything is alright. There is only me.

Prose provided by my brother; visit his blog for more great writing.

Maybe she's getting too old for playing with swings. But I don't think you can ever be too old to enjoy sitting on one. Ultimate Nostalgia trip.

I think I like drawing her so much because she has a rather versatile personality. Its easy to imagine her both mischievous and extroverted or moody and melancholy. At least her physical appearance is starting to get consistent anyways.

I used a larger size of paper to draw it so I got to add more details then usual. Unfortunately it no longer fit in the scanner so the sides got a bit cropped out - ah well, those parts weren't drawn that well anyways. The full resolution download is similarly absurdly gigantic. I love the scanners at the university.

Douglas firs are crazy strange to draw. Got to love Canadian vegetation.

Character profile here . Its getting a bit dated, though.