Saturday, 16 June 2012

Ducks can talk, you know

Forest swim, pen and ink ©jb
We walked and walked and realised that we had lost our bearings and didn't know how to get back to the carpark. Round and round we went, past the impossibly green, grassy field and the woman walking her big dopey dog. We stopped to watch the golden leaves flutter down from the oak tree as the breeze picked up. On the bridge, gazing down at the ducks swimming in the lake, we made quacking sounds and the ducks replied, 'We don't sound like that!'

Ok, they didn't really say that, just like these ducks weren't really swimming in a nest perched on a tree branch. But that's the beauty of drawing. You can make life be any way you want it to be with the stroke of a pen.

Oh, and we did eventually find our way back to the carpark - the ducks gave us directions.

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