It is that awkward pause between spring and summer where the weather could do just about anything. Humid. Rain. Dry. Sun. Wind. Mold. People. Any combination and it just feels like that same strange season.
Like the world is maybe deciding what she'll be today.
Bienvenue
The moon shines down upon an open field, while you walk on the bare, crumbling cement of the path. The trees are welcoming but dark, and the night feels no place to wander.
About Me
- Jaro
- My name is Jeremy, and I create, research, and teach comics and graphic narratives (and their overlap with anthropology, ethnography, media, communication, etc.). I am also a textile artists, and I am often up for doing work freelance/by commission -- ask me and see. And now, a poem: watching stars collide, i breathe a sigh of wonder; life so short, yet so long
