Birthdays, she had come to understand, were peculiar inventions, all that fuss and candle smoke and the strange pressure of a single day deciding how well the rest of them had gone. The Unbirthday asked for none of this. It simply arrived, as pink balloons and rabbits tend to, without explanation.
She dressed accordingly. Hat at the precise angle of someone who has thought about it rather too long. Collar frilled. Gloves on.
Instead she sat amongst the good pillows, whilst the balloons bobbed and the rabbit kept its counsel, and the whole peculiar afternoon held its breath around her like a party waiting politely for permission to begin.
It would wait a little longer yet. Happy Unbirthday.
Digital collage / Digital Mixed Media
Multiple sizes available - Prints are dispatched within one week
