Holding on to one of the thousands of dead branches I’ve drawn. If I draw more dead branches than live ones? Suppose it doesn’t matter, when regardless of the nature of the branch, I can convince a bird to land on it. In just the right part of the page. Maybe a cropped tail feather here and there. All for good measure.

And true to a developing form, keeping the bird “scientific” and the sky abstract. I can only take this whole life so seriously after all.

An account of the sky that day.