Nostalgia.

3am and I write 'cause I'm still wide awake, and I have nothing to do as the night dissipates, and the muggy air coats my skin salty sweet, and the hum and the glow of the lights by the street, remind me of days long gone but not lost, when life seemed so complex and I'd care not the cost, of seeing the sunrise again and again, ink soaked and grinning; the shadows my friends.

It seems to be the day for missing things that used to be, even if I'd never change what is.

Silly little sketch in gouache. Just for a bit of fun.