Tumbleheads move with the wind.
Thursday morning face
Today writing/drawing prompt: Ridiculous
I couldn’t help myself.
I’ve reached the stage of life that requires eyebrow maintenance. My barber volunteers to trim them when I get a haircut but I’ve found she cuts them so short that I now politely refuse her offer. She pretends to be offended, and I think perhaps she is a bit. Who am I to claim more knowledge of how the eyebrow should be trimmed? But I hold my ground and then go home and do a slightly less lousy job of it myself.
This is the joy of doodling: beginning with blank space and seeing what emerges as one creates. I suppose it’s not a terrible way to approach each new day, as well.
Perhaps the face is sad to watch the flower city launch away.