The very end of the book.
We Lymies, when we tell our stories, always end with the cheery-uppy admonition to “check for ticks!.” To break the gloom.
As if checking for ticks would have made a difference in our cases. I don’t remember the tick that bit me. I remember a hickey on my breast.
My online friend doesn’t remember the one or several ticks on her scalp. Sure, remembers pulling a few off, and dozens and dozens off her cat and dog, the guts rubbing into the many cuts she made hulling strawberries.
The nymphs of these ticks, too little to see, the adults, like sesame seeds.
I realize now that I have drawn these tick legs all wrong. Made this bug look more like a beetle. The back legs should be up near the front. But the body is right. It’s body is a vessel. The real ones give a visceral rage to lymies.
I used to be in publishing, and then in marketing, and so I have magnifying loupes around the house.
After diagnosis, when I’d take a tick off my dog or cat, I would trap it under the loupe, take its picture. Or try to. I used my grandfather’s magnifying glass to study them. I still can’t believe an otherwise beautiful insect (I like bugs) could cause so much harm. As opposed to, say, an undecidedly creepy mosquito.
But that’s the case. And my case. And the end of my story for The Sketchbook Project. This is sketchbook (#S96581).
Learn about the project at http://www.sketchbookproject.com, headquartered at the Brooklyn Art Library, where already one person has checked out this book, which sits alongside amazing art by amazing artists.
And if you’re near Brooklyn or any of the tour sites: http://www.sketchbookproject.com/sbp2013, make some time to take a peek at some of those books, will you? You won’t be sorry, and maybe will be inspired to pick up a pencil or pen or some paint to tell your stories.
Thanks for looking.