Thursday, August 18, 2011


So, I figured, if this an art blog, why not post a small story? I mean, literature is art, so what the hell. Well, let's get real for a sec, my writing isn't art. But, ah, I feel like posting this.

It was raining that evening. I was in the music room, softly playing Backwoods on the piano. I had left the door open because the boys were out playing soccer, and probably soaked by now. I heard the door opening downstairs and several conversations going on at the same time. Most of the boys went to the showers.Ross J. didn’t. He went to see a blonde girl who was staying near us. Àlva was her name. She was a year younger and had a boyfriend already, but he wouldn’t be there until the end of the month, so she was having a not-so-secret affair with Ross.

Ander entered the music room, bringing with him a sweet scent of black liquorice and wet grass. He closed the door and came closer to me. I finished the piece and started playing Missouri Sunrise. He sat to my left on the bench. He didn’t speak; he knew this was one of my favourite songs.
I glanced sideways at him. He was smiling, his brown hair, darkened by the rain, sticked to his forehead; his wet tee, a bit see-through, also clinged to his body. Charming.
Drops of water kept specking my blue dress. He got even closer, brushing his arm against mine. After what seemed the longest time, I finished playing and embraced him. I didn’t mind getting wet.

Hope you liked it.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I'm back!

Well, I wasn't really gone, but I stopped posting. I've finished school so I have  a lot of free time now. Well, I have some new drawings.
 This is Sylphide, a fairy whose body is only covered by magical blue fire that comes out of a golden goblet and that she can conjure whenever she wants.
Myst, another fairy, who can summon energy and hold it in her palm as a ball of light.

Summer Fairy, very easily pissed. A legend says some witches tried to invoke her on the night of the Summer Solstice. She was so angry at them she burnt them to death. They say that grass doesn't grow anymore where those  witches had invoked her.
And Primrose, a medieval princess, with a certainly good taste in dresses. ;)
Well I'll upload more drawings soon.
Love to all (so to say, to Alice, Shadow and random readers.)