Conor

I’ve only lived here a month now, but I can already tell your footsteps walking down the hall. A mixture of a shuffle and a stride. Your entire body seems to rustle – no, ruffle – slightly when you move. I think it’s the sound of your hair, but it might be your jeans brushing the floor. In my head you are a giant, watching over everyone in our kitchen. It’s because of the way you move. Your hands gesticulating, your body shifting, and your eyes darting around the room hooded by a tiny frown of thought. Sometimes I worry that the smell from your room might penetrate the wall between our rooms, because as much as I love you, it cannot be denied that your room distinctly smells of boy. I remember you once explained that you found blow drying your hair made you sweat, and so you always needed a second shower after drying your hair. I personally have never had this issue, in fact I don’t know of anyone else who struggles with your hair-dryer-sweat scenario. It is just the uniqueness of you. If I ever wake up at night or can’t sleep, I know I will be able to find you sitting in the smoke of a cigarette and your own thoughts. But the smell of your tobacco is not the smell of you, not for me. For me it is the smell of duck cooking, or your chicken Chinese rice. Those are the smells that remind me of you.

Conor

Hope Bachmann

Joined May 2010

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

We had to write a character description piece in one of our Creative Writing seminars, so I did my friend Conor.

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.