Ink

It's all I've been able to eat, sleep, think, dream about for the past week.
Let me tell you, when they talk about inky skies - they refer to water-based ink.
I stink of turpentine and my hands (after being scrubbed raw) still resemble a dead man's hands.
I am almost done, though. I need to do some lovely needle work tonight.

I have stress leaking down my back.

Even though I went for a jog in the inky twilight.

Mais j'aime l'encre.

It does me well and I put it on T-shirts.

It makes our world go round.

At least it used to...

It looks like I have a Twiggy fetish - it's disturbing, her face is everywhere.

I'm so intimidated.

But it's awesome.
Photos of the project to follow.

Twiggy