"No, but you probably would to a real nice pale blue." Glumly.
There's a tree nearby, and several small children running around it, under the watchful eye of parents and the gentleman in the chair who appears to be supervising the whole thing. But the point is what's under the tree: a sculpture without much rhyme or reason, made from wood -- the wood, one could guess, from the pile of ornately-carved scraps next to the sculpture. It comes up to Kaylee's shoulder at its highest point, and spreads over at least fifteen feet.
PUBLIC ART I GUESS reads the sign tacked to the tree, pick up some glue and work on it.
no subject
There's a tree nearby, and several small children running around it, under the watchful eye of parents and the gentleman in the chair who appears to be supervising the whole thing. But the point is what's under the tree: a sculpture without much rhyme or reason, made from wood -- the wood, one could guess, from the pile of ornately-carved scraps next to the sculpture. It comes up to Kaylee's shoulder at its highest point, and spreads over at least fifteen feet.
PUBLIC ART I GUESS reads the sign tacked to the tree, pick up some glue and work on it.
Kaylee's eyes gleam.