
It’s tough being a hopeless romantic.
Illustrations, CSS experiments, bits and pieces

It’s tough being a hopeless romantic.

No sketch today, my muse was sleeping.

There is something living in the forest.
It looks like a girl, and it sings like a girl, but it’s something else. Don’t approach; don’t make conversation.
It does quite a good impression of a person, but there is one small detail that gives it away. Look closely at its hands, because it wears them back to front.

‘80s baby wants his trends back.

Long, lean legs to make even the sternest Italian designer swoon.

The King of the Beach is not impressed with your puny sandcastles! You may not leave until you create something at least seven foot tall, and it better have a moat!

They say a bird never flew on one wing, but that’s just far too grim to accept when you’re a nine-year-old equipped with twine, a rough knowledge of physics and a sense of justice.

Julie, I have a confession to make. While I was installing firefox for you, I set my blog as your homepage. It was pretty cheeky I admit.

Training is tough. But it’s even tougher when everyone you ask to become your running buddy says no.

I see you crazy lady. I know what you’re up to. Chatting away on the phone, but still waving your arms around like a windmill.
That person on the other end of the line? They can’t see you.