The guy on the left thinks it’s the other guy, who thinks he’s right, but nobody really knows for sure who is who. Drawn while at a serious meeting. Hope nobody peeked at my notebook.

This one just got drawn in the evening while I was sitting around drawing things in the evening. Pretty much the case of drawing a line, then another, and then some text, and so on. That’s why it makes no sense.

One of the one-off stories Rilla and I have come up with over the years. We often tell stories about small animals getting stressed out by ‘adult’ concerns, even though they don’t need to. Like cats thinking they have to pay taxes.

I found myself pausing at the door to a men/women/disabled toilet in a Bridgehead on Bank and Albert in Ottawa. Bravely, I forged ahead.

A real-life experience of watching a pot of quinoa boiling on the stove-top. Or… did it? It’s very much the same kind of thing as that cat in a box, probably.

I get this weird feeling sometimes when I wake up at night that I somehow have no ‘real’ identity and that everything about life is some kind of fake.

Sometimes I see disappointed-looking people on the streets and I imagine that they are thinking, “mother was right.” This sad realisation that after all these years, that trite advice was actually good.