no snow really yet but its coming...
Carney makes his way through fallow fields. The Maize House is his final destination. He is carrying a large blank canvas at all times. Canvas soaked in alcohol which he often takes sips of his paintings in the process. Sucking canvas like a sponge, drinking away the blur of color until the canvas reveals an image (like at the bottom of a bowl of soup) into all too real characters, distorted, disfigured and a caricature of the reality revealed, the blunt cruel reality, in naked exposure, too funny for it to seem a terrible or shameful thing.
"people probably don't realized I'm a real person with these writings at some point I will get on there and make some stuff up too" He thinks out-loud wiping off some color from his chin.
"there is no linear path to the wikki is there
LOL"