Winter, winter, winter is at the doors! The wheels are turning!

The first cold is here! With a jolt it awakens my body from a long slumber, makes my legs itch for a stroll, after long days spent drawing and translating in quiet rooms, the mind free to take flight into indisturbed territories, through Dürer’s realm, gardens of souls lost, eagleman stags, inconceivably beautiful radiolarians. The voice of a not so distant friend calls me back, I fumble and wonder where this is going. Only time will tell.

Impromptu Mickey Mouse appears in Seghers's print and ruins everything for the second time.

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