The dream starts, I'm wearing some white lolita shoes and a tiny skirt. I follow my own feet in a crowded dance floor, the music is so hight that my brain has decided to stop working and just to follow the beat.
He is dancing with some blonde nymphet, I don't care, I'm dancing too. Suddenly my eyes fell in to some blue eyes, his. He grabs my hand, I fly through the dance floor and then again I look into those eyes in a cloud of smoke. I open my mouth and blow the smoke of my cigarets to his face. He vanishes.
This story has absolutely nothing to do with the drawing, but I had a dream in which I was writing this post and there was exactly this story and then… dunno.
I make different variants of the picture because I was not sure of what kind of results I was looking for. Still I can't say which one I prefer. Perhaps the white one, or the orange, well the green also has something nice…
The main thing is not to try to give a sense to the pic. There isn't any. Or maybe if there's one, it is made of the same substance that dreams are made of. (glycemia)
This little post scriptum is dedicated to Photoshop, who crashed three times while I was drawing this pic. Thanks, I love you like hell.