Why -- after a whole weekend of staring at a blank page, thinking, "I can't think of anything to draw," and "I ain't got shit to do," -- do I wake up on Monday morning and think of about seven different things I'd like to draw and at least three other projects I promised people I'd start on?
And at 5am, no less.
It's going to be a long week.
Inspiration is a tricky bugger. Hits you like a massive wave when you least expect it, and never comes when you want it. Beautiful what DOES come out of it, though.
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