Rosebuds and leek soup

Tried drawing today… Widely known fact that the only thing that I can even attempt to draw is FLORA, so here is my attempt, sketched to the pervading smell of homemade leek and potato soup:


And I thought I would also include a speech I have been writing for a little dramatic project… Excuse the language and the melancholy!

If I kneel down, on one knee, does that make it better? If I look at you with the longing in my eyes, then aren’t we starting as we mean to go on? I’m the one who wants to keep you, so I should be the one to ask – I see now! Can’t you see that? And now everything is somehow different, is it? What’s changed?
A great deal has changed.
Has it? Has it really? I kneel down in the hope of making some sort of feminist gesture, and yet there is still someone kneeling on the floor.
Look at me.
I can’t. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.
My would-be fiance can’t look at me. The two reprobates are banished to the outside, no questions asked, swept…
No one is looking at me!
(She laughs, somewhat hysterically.)
Well, happy fucking Easter.
Does no one have anything to say?
JEN has finished making the call. No one looks at JULES, they are all embarrassed into silence. Pause.

Until next time, blogosphere x



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