This pink, cloudy afternoon, after allowing a dozen rainbow witch fingers to dance across my gums and wedge their long, violet nails between my teeth, I sank into the white depths of an enormous pillow and had several imaginary wanderings.
Will is my name and I write and record music as Paneye and draw illustrations.
I once dreamed of a community of people, deep in a forest, that were all made of butter. These people only survived until spring, when they would melt into a creamy pond. Autumn hardened the pond and new butter people would stir and crawl out of the cream to start a new life.