A strange sensation shatters my illusion of protection.
A lump… surgery, and again I’m safe, but less of me today than yesterday.
Flesh heals. My mind wanders. I consider wings.
How many feathers can fall before the bird follows?
My destination still awaits. I’m arriving one piece at a time.
Through pencil and pulp, Mike Keyser shares his best pieces.
Thank you, Paul.
Beautiful release of pathos; excellent analogy in a question.
Thank you, JD.
Beautiful imagery…touching.
Thank you, Angela.
A question I too wrestle with, Mike, but never so beautifully expressed. Thank you.
Thank you, Carol.
I lost my Father piece by piece at 63, my mother is 94 and still going strong, though missing pieces. I lost my first piece 9 years ago.
This made me feel like crying, it’s so beautiful.