Chubby nomads like this make their way through the toxic combustible post-apocalyptic static that surrounds their home.
It is the year 6742 and they have no idea that they were once human beings. Our progeny seem to have paid the price for our environmental sins. Strangely though, they seem to thrive in a poisonous cloud of doom and love every minute of it. Goggles are very precious.
ink and colored pencil on Mi-Teintes pastel paper, 9" x 6"
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1 comment:
He kind of reminds me of our present day "Potato People." Or so I call them.
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