at the end of the day
ink, watercolor, gouache on stonehenge natural paper
Death and Light sit in a garden of tall fragrant Molys and passionately speak about the difficulty in growing Purpleworms. Rolling eyes, Light is exasperated by Death ending each argument with the words, "At the end of the day." So wearied by Death's empty cliche, Light challenges Death to think of a better way to convince. Death thinks for a moment, and then brightens. "How about: At the end of me?"
Images and content are Copyright protected 2020 by Margaret Ann Withers.