Cruel world
A new gig! I called my father the other day to tell him how I was found and eventually contacted (through word of mouth) by an hot-shot young author from NYC to do some illustrations. The author and I seemed to find common ground quickly plus her personal story and mine fit together in an eerily complimentary pattern. We have mutual respect and I have some awe.
This opportunity came right at the tail end of my dream-like triumph of creating illustrations for an amazing cultural institution (that shall go unnamed for now upon the advice of my lawyer/sister) in Paris. Things are going better than I could ever hope and I needed to tell my Dad before it was too late. I rang several time before he finally answered.
I could practically smell the antiseptic smell waifing about in his cancer ward's hospital bed when he murmured that he was happy for me. He was obviously too weak to give me anymore. I let him go. I went back to my drawing board.
I'm afraid the repetoire of my strong emotions is growing.
