stationaryAs most of you have noticed, I recently posted a photo of what's inside my pencil case, and it's gotten a ridiculous amount of favs - which is nice, of course! I really appreciate it! I just wasn't expecting it to get that popular..More Like This
But it also had me wonder, because.. That photo was of the stuff in my smallest pencil case, and while it is the drawing tools I use the most, it just had me wondering... What if I posted photos of the rest of my drawing/painting/sculpting/etc tools?
Because that's a lot...!
I'm curious though, would anyone be interested in seeing that, or would it just come out as bragging? Because I don't want to brag, I hate bragging about stuff and try avoiding it at all costs, really. But if people are interested in seeing my art tools, I'd be happy to show you
What do you think?
Ch2 The VisitorMore Like This
The gray and white furred girl trudges through the thick snow, barely breaking the thin layer of ice en casing it. Her thick heavy pads nearly glide over the white blanket without sinking a hair’s length in. as she continues trotting, a fine dust of snowflakes grip onto her thick fur, making the tips of her hairs almost sparkle in the harsh winds, whipping them about every which way. She stops abruptly, and swivels her ears to and fro. She sniffs the air, and stifles her breath so that puffs of hot air don’t turn into visible clouds. Her mane fur raises slightly as if she’s being watched. She turns around, looking at the dead bare brush and trying to see if anything’s lurking behind the shadows. She turns back around and something hits her square in the face.
“Poff!” She lets out a squeal and falls over, sinking into the thick snow and leaving her head and shoulders sticking out from under the crusty ice. She suddenly hears cackling comin
Chapter 1 The New ArrivalsMore Like This
I remember… the first time I saw her….
The air was warm and the sky was clear of angry clouds. I stood solemnly on the top of the hill waiting. I had been standing and pacing urgently for the past handful of time, and was now sitting on the dusty grass playing with my feet and crying. The wind playfully tussled the grass’ tips, causing waves of bright green to ripple over the hills. I could hear bugs buzzing loudly from the forest behind me and the leaves rustled and danced with the sweet smelling breeze. l looked and saw a couple of dots on the horizon an nearly leaped out of my pelt. More tears welled up as I sprinted down the dirt path to the dots, growing larger with every step. A smile beamed on my face as I saw a tall man, his face and chest covered with colorful paints.
“Pa-Pa!!” I shouted eagerly. My father, a stone faced man, weathered from age and wind held an automatic sense of wisdom and pride in his mere presence, scooped me up as if it was