I watched as she gardened, often offering to as.sist in her skill. I tried to learn how she could dig out those perfectly shaped holes with a small shovel held by teeth, how she could give the flowers the right amount of water without a measuring cup, how she could shape the plants as they grew without trimming them, but to no avail.

i really like that story and the painting

Wow nice.

I only watched, appreciating the different colors they came in, yellows, oranges, holding a special fondness for the reds as they matched my own eyes. The differently shaped petals, some curling outward and others not yet in bloom. I remember her saying names of each as they were planted, only blaming myself now for being so careless as forgetting them. How all these different flowers co-existed peacefully still eludes me.

A small nod as, "Oi, I wouldn't be able to carry all that soil myself." Oh, how I would enjoy the praise she gave me. I would stay humble, but I drank and savored it in secret. Sure, it was something as mundane as strength, but I could not stop myself from smiling every time.

"Don't you have a family to go back to?" she asked one day. I always knew she suspected me of being a waif, with the amount of time I spent alone and how filthy I usually was. But, "Yeah, sort of, but I don't have to go right now." younger me would always say. It was the truth after all. She simply frowned and turned back, knowing my evasive nature. I always felt truly awful at those times, hoping, yearning that she would never try to go any further than that occasional question.

great, i love it!

Beautiful job. I have to say, Alexeev is my favorite of yours. uwu

I just want to hug your art!

Good god this is incredible.

Aaaargh y u no stop being awesome-fritters!!?
I'm filled to the brim with the green jelly of envifulleryness!