Astanael

Tag: Fumes

  • Smoktober 04

    The next morning came. The old sailor was still smoking. It was not painful or anything but became quite bothersome.
    He went and asked several physicians and good doctors. None could help, and all were baffled by his condition.
    As the days flew away, the smoke got thicker. Maybe one of me pipes is cursed? he thought.
    Yes, but… which one?

    ***

    Le matin suivant, le vieux marin fumait encore. Ce n’était pas douloureux mais devint plutôt gênant.
    Il s’en alla voir plusieurs pratiquants et docteurs de renom. Aucun ne sus l’aider, et tous furent abasourdis par sa condition.
    Plus les jours passaient, plus la fumée s’épaississait. L’une de ses pipes était peut-être maudite, se dit-il.
    Oui mais voila… laquelle ?

    Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre de chine sur carnet A6Smoktober 2020 – An Ink story about Smoke

  • Smoktober 03

    One night his wife wakes him up. She’s quite angry, and she yells at him:
    “I told you to stop smoking in the house! Especially in bed!”
    But as soon as she makes some light the room, she become worried.
    The old sailor was not smoking the pipe. He’s smoking… himself!
    Thin trails of smoke were pouring from his ears, from his mouth and from his nose, dancing together as they reach the roof.
    “What is happening my dear?” she said. “I really don’t know” he replied.

    ***
    Une nuit, sa femme le réveille. Elle n’est pas contente du tout et le lui fait savoir :“Je t’ai déjà dit de ne pas fumer dans la maison, et surtout pas au lit !"Mais dès qu’elle allume la lumière, sa colère laisse place à de l’inquiétude.Car le vieux marin ne fumait pas la pipe au lit. Il fumait… tout court !
    De minces filets de fumée sortait de sa bouche, de ses oreilles et de son nez pour aller se perdre au plafond."Mais que t’arrive-t-il mon amour?” lui demanda-t-elle. “Je ne sais pas” lui répondit-il.
    Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre de chine sur carnet A6Smoktober 2020 – An Ink story about Smoke

  • Getting ready for the ceremony

    The fumes makes my head dizzy
    Maybe I am not that ready?
    Im ust attend the cere’ony
    Wut? I… flubblu.. glap. I’m sorry.

    ***

    L’encens me fait tourner la tête
    Peut-être ne suis-je pas prête ?
    J’dois ‘ssister à l’c’rémonie p’tète
    Qwa ? Shaiplu..blublu . Glap. J’suis bête.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine sur carnet A6

  • Bear Shaman

    Come. Come and enter the tent. Breathe the fumes. Do not mind the animals, they’re here to guide and protect you. So your spirit can wander in peace.

    ***

    Venez. Venez et entrez dans la tente. Respirez la fumée. Ne vous inquietez pas pour les animaux, ils sont la pour vous guider, pour protéger votre esprit alors qu’il voyagera hors de son corps.

    Pencil on A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine sur carnet A6
    Man! Getting back to pensil after all this ink is hard.

  • Smoke City

    Natural heating and ever lasting power source
    Smoke city is a haven for engineers and metalworker.
    Yeah the fumes does shorten your life
    But as Young says : “It’s better to burn out than to fade away”

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook