Je suis une artiste indépendante qui code en C++, dessinne de temps à autres, et fait de la 3D avec Blender.
Je suis aussi engagée politiquement du côté des idées progressistes (veganisme, LGBTQIA+, féminisme, etc...).
Je suis une personne transgenre non-binaire féminine et hypersensible.
Je dessine depuis toute petite, mais ai traversé de longues périodes sans dessiner. Je programme des prototypes et jeux depuis 2004. Je me (re)construis après des périodes d'anxio-dépression et de méconnaissance de moi-même.
I am an indie artist who codes in C ++, draws from time to time, and does 3D with Blender. I am also politically engaged on the side of progressive ideas (veganism, LGBTQIA +, feminism, etc ...). I am a hypersensitive female non-binary transgender person.
I draw from a very small age, but have gone through long periods without drawing. I program prototypes and games since 2004. I (re) build me after periods of anxio-depression and ignorance of myself.
Youtube : www.youtube.com/channel/UCkkSE…
Thanks for the llama 😍
I knew a llama once. At least I thought I knew him. I mean, how well can anyone really know anyone, much less a llama. With their air of mystery and thinly veiled contempt. It’s hard. But I digress.
His name was Kevin. But for reasons I will never understand, he would only ever answer to Albert. Identity issues aside, things started out okay. The usual introductory sniffing and sneezing went well, despite his allergie. But then things went downhill during the ritual licking phase of the pleasantries. We pushed through. Had it not been for the spitting, we might have even been able to make it work, but alas, after just 3 seconds of bittersweet brotherhood, we finally decided to part ways. It’s kind of sad, when you think about it. Spitting seems like such an innocent thing to fight over, but he was pretty adamant that I should stop and that was just not going to happen. We might have overcome that issue, but Kevin, like all llamas, was very competitive. First came the stench competitions. Then it was belching contests. And lastly, a painstaking count to see which one was hairier. You can clearly see why our relationship was doomed. The poor fellow was a bit of a sore loser.
So under the cover of high noon, he fled, taking with him a failed friendship, an obliviously optimistic dread of the future, and my sixth favorite toothbrush. Now that he is gone, I can honestly say, it's for the best. He was too much of a chick magnet anyway and who needs that poultry drama? ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ
Je suis à la recherche de végans endurcis qui seraient prêts à débattre un peu. Donc si tu veux bien échanger quelques pavés dans la bonne humeur, la politesse et la non-violence, j’en serais fort aise.