Just some words, not even a drawing.
This LIFE/interior thing is far from dead, I know lack of updates seems to point strongly to a looming future --but that's not it! It's only the usual spiral of unwanted events that keep conspiring against it, diseases mix with happy moments and stress mixes with relief, and between all of that there seems to be no space for little things like a continuing story.
All is not lost! Many drafts took life from otherwise dead trees and graphite and script and new moments are already in the land of future. Their migration to the digital world is taking longer than I'd like, and sometimes I think that this lonely tear of sweat on the side of my face doesn't only come from the hot summer but also from the guilty feeling of lousy comic parenting. Also, the unborn pages keep asking me to get my **** together and do some drawing, now (unborn pages talk like that, they are a bit foul-mouthed).
There's weekend hopes! Some nasty pieces of life will have taken care of themselves by then, and drawing will resume.
Promise.
It's on the Internet. It must be true.