Car.

Hard to say goodbye to my car. Not only because I can't  buy a new one like that, but because it was taken from us so suddenly by the black water of the ocean, cutting it in its prime, cutting off the slice of life. Somehow it put a dot on our previous adventures connected to the Car, our happy trips Upstate, our secretive escapades Downtown, my drawing ventures. I miss it dearly. Feels sort of I let it die, like neglected pet. Unfair.
May be it is brought up from the Old World I came from, where things were given a deeper meaning, where it was more connected to people's lives, almost given a life of its own?
We liked that it was big, we like to sit high up, we liked that it was black color and had loud speakers, which echoing electronic beat so nicely, we liked window on the roof, that you can stand, stick out, laugh and let the wind to chew your hair and duck down when see sheriff's car on the road.
I used ink, Kuretake, I used salt, sort of imitating what really happened.