This is one of my few truly vivid memories from being at primary school. It’s kind of depressing in some ways, though definitely right.

I picked up a pamphlet on “Swadhyay” (self-confidence) at a local shoe-repair store in Wellington, New Zealand. It has some great slogans which I translated into a kind of symbolic comic.

I was ultra-determined to hand-draw a comic and this is what I came up with for some reason.

I read somewhere at some point that you should draw your hand a lot, so I’ve taken to doing that – my left hand, necessarily.

Drawn from a bunch of source images I took randomly of myself making faces in the bathroom mirror at Floriditas, a café in Wellington.

I little bit of comic strip self-flagellation. For my sins.

I little piece of hypothetical autobiography. I swear that this is not actually true of me in any way. Or perhaps there is just the tiniest grain of truth to it.

I forget why I wrote this short story other than as a musing on death in general and funerals in particular. I’ve always had a thing for inglorious ends.