This morning I wandered into an archive of several chapters of a graphic novel. The illustrations are all ink and watercolor, which may go some distance toward explaining why I had to look at every single page, before I could look away. No, that's not true. The reason I couldn't look away is that the illustrations are simultaneously familiar and otherworldly. It was like visiting a dream I'd had before, only it wasn't my dream. Very moody, atmospheric. All in, it only took me about 10 minutes to click through all of the pages the author had posted, but I think if there had been 10 times as much, I would still be clicking the next button now, eating up the images.
The author says the series is on permanent temporary hiatus, because it just takes too damn long to produce each image. I can believe that, but it's also a bit sad. It definitely has an epic quality about it, the unmistakable sense of having just spotted the tip of the iceberg.
Green Evening Stories
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