An unfinished illustration series dedicated to the best person I've lost and the essence of friendship as a whole.
Sadly, there are countless people, and it seems so easy to replace each one of them.
I have these dreams where you're the captain of a submarine. You casually open a window and invite me in for tea, all while the submarine is slowly sinking into the depths. You're slowly fading away, and I can't help but wonder: does this invitation mean that you still remember me?
When the sun heats your shoulders, I am scared that you might melt away like those jellyfish we used to let bask on the sand when we were kids. Will you leave a damp imprint of your buttocks as a lasting memory as well?
Sometimes I find myself hating the world, yet my love for Julia remains persistent.
I find myself constantly thinking about everything related to you, but with each passing day, my memories grow less detailed, less vivid. Each day seems like something slipping away from my mind irreversibly, and I'm just afraid of forgetting.
Back in first grade, I once asked my friends to help me corner the boy I had a crush on, so I could kiss him. I can still see the fear in his eyes. If only I could replace this memory with any memory of you.
One day, you'll notice the first bald spot on the head of your first love, and it will become clear that nothing will ever be the same again.
I feel sorrow wandering through Zhytomyr, knowing that none of the roads now lead to my granny's house. The same sorrow I feel thinking of the dimples on your cheeks understanding that one of your smiles was the last for me.
We aren't eternal, we age and pass away, or simply pass away. Everything changes — somewhat for the better, a bit more for the worse, and mostly, it seems, for the same nothingness.
But I'll always share in your joys and sorrows, even if my ageing hands will never ever wash your ageing butt.
to be continued
