“The Mikes they were ashen and sober;
The thighfish were crispèd and sere –
The thighfish were withered and sere:
It was night, in the lonesome November
Of my most immemorial year”
or something, sorry that was flying around my head this entire page.
Man, I’m tired. I… don’t have much to share today, haha. Well, I will share this page with you, as it continues to exist and I continue to be appreciative.
Today’s bonus art: same biz as usual~