time flies, said the bird

untitled; pen and ink on onion paper.

Last day at the office. In for thirteen hours yesterday, straight through lunch, then the graveyard of the parking lot, carrying boxes in darkness. Today's still crashy but I can see the end.

A file is just somebody's problem. Sometimes it's a real problem, sometimes not. Either way, after a certain number of piles you just want to set them all on fire.

Which is a good time to get out for awhile. I'll have four months at home with my little bird. We'll see how it flies.