Sitting under two trees that cast a welcome shadow in a sunny day, I remember that much more than a job, to draw is a pleasure, and a very personal one, one you share only with the paper, with the brush, a movement that takes you anywhere without you ever leaving.
January started as an eclipse, when the sun and the moon meet only to part again from each other. Bá was here yesterday on his last day before he took off to a desert beach, and I returned from a beach to now resume working. We sat together, we ate and we talked, making plans a month ahead. January is solely on each one's shoulder, and we only talk about what we'll do when we're together again. We have a lot of plans, we want to tell a lot of stories. This year can be better than the last, which was already very good, and we have to make it a better year if we want it to happen. We are in the making business, nothing suddenly appears, except for birds and bees, and nothing gets done by itself, except maybe the duration of a day (and not even that, to some, as we can have days to end days, and days to end weeks).
Let's make comics, even if under the shadow of a tree.