I woke up squinting, unable to remember which stop we last pulled into. I don't recall at which kilometer of a desolate road we took a break, or how far I walked through the weeds just to get the feeling back in my numb legs and backside. I don't know if we crossed into another universe—and that's why I forgot everything before falling asleep—or if my brain fluids shifted because the car was shaking so violently on these pebble-covered roads. As I wait for this temporary loss of time and memory to pass, an animal approaches the car window. It watches the inside with curious eyes, fogging up the glass with the warm breath from its nose.

There are three of us in the car, watching without panic as the animal walks, breathes, and tries to climb its massive body onto the vehicle. If it gets onto the roof, the entire car will likely be buried and lost under its fur. Or perhaps, as we sit hunched over inside the car being crushed under its weight, we will laugh and wonder why we ever let this happen.

Drawing on sketchbook. 2026