Nuevos tiempos nos acontecen

Este blog se ha pasado mucho tiempo inactivo por razones de lo más variadas, pero ya está arrancando motores para empezar de nuevo. Gracias a todos aquellos que se han hecho seguidores y han dejado sus comentarios :)
Volveremos pronto, muy pronto.
Prometido.

I miss you dear....

La otra mitad de este blog, R1, está ausente por causas de fuerza mayor. Así que me ha encomendado la tarea de seguir actualizando yo sola hasta que él pueda estar presente en espíritu (o adsl y ordenador en otras palabras).
Se que debía ilustrar un texto que él mismo me dejó preparado, pero es un texto demasiado especial como para hacerlo yo sola así que me he concentrado en hacer una ilustración que nos representara a los dos.
Esta ilustración refleja el último momento que viví con R1 fisicamente hablando y la sensación que me transmitió. Mi oso grande y protector, que me abraza rodeándome y haciendome sentir pequeña pero valiente.
Espero que vuelvas pronto y que todos esos Australianos te lo pongan bien facil. Y si no, muerdeles las posaderas...
A sus pinceles.... 3...2....1....ya!!!

The other half of this blog, R1, is it missing by mayor causes. He has given me the task of keep updating on my own until he can come back in spirit with us(in ADSL and coumputer in other words)
I know I had to illustrate a text he himself left ready, but that text is too especial like to do it on my own so I focused in doing an illustration the represented both of us.
This illustration is a reflection of the last moment I lived with R1 physically speaking and the feeling he transmited to me. My big bear big and protector, that surrounded me with a hugh making me feel small but brave.
I hope that you come back soon and all those Australians make you road for it. If not, bite them in their ass...
On your pencils..3...2....1....now!!!

The Statement of Alva Griest

Is it correct, or even possible to say a HOUSE has DIED?
That was my first impression. The paint was peeling from it's façade in long pale tongues that revealed worm-eaten wood beneath. Some half of the windows were broken out, with those of the upper story boarded over in a haste. The cupola dome had partially caved in, and one end of the house was entire was lower than the other, as if it had shifted on its foundation and would soon collapse.

The front door stood open or perhaps was missing. That entrance was no more than a black rectangle leading into mystery; splintered bullet holes around the jamb explained little. It was through that portal I was certain Bill had run and I made to follow, my musket and my haversack bouncing on my shoulder and back, my breath ragged in my throat.