Day Two Hundred Eighty

Ah, bliss. 

I could feel things starting to come along a bit today...

The print studio got cleaned from the last fit of 1a.m. to 11a.m. printing/breakfast burrito eating/coffee drinking. It felt so great to discard the reject prints that littered the floor and tables. I don't like acting as if small things always have some deep, symbolic meaning, but I kind of dug the fresh start. 

So, continuing to write words...

whis-per v. To speak in a very low tone; to tell in secret. n. A low rustling sound; the act of whispering.

Absolute new favorite freakin' page in this dictionary. Ever. I want to shake the hand of the illustrator that was assigned "whisker". 

Moving on...

Whispering hasn't always led to the best of things. In fact, it almost always hasn't. I liked the idea of illustrating a "whisper" as sort of a toxic event. Almost like a thick cloud of smoke. 

xx

r