Subway Train of Thought

This week brings us both oil and digital. As for the former, we have (with the paint still glittering, I'm impatient as usual) a subway train and bluebells still waiting for oily bloom. I prefer sketches. They're promising -- still waiting for blossom -- yet no disappointment or the emptiness that fulfilment would bring, sakura. We have, however, a curious subway train with insect genes dominant, creepy-crawly;

...what happens when subway trains turn into butterflies?

This one is close to cocooning, anyway. The microscopical letters SL stand for Stockholms Lokaltrafik, the institution that brings us these larvae. They're blue nowadays, they were green when I grew up. Sign of ripening?

...and the bluebells are waiting to chime.

It has been an interesting week and we need some fresh O₂. But our poor lungs are infected by the beautiful stanzas of my friend Ms. Lampa the Poet, and thus look like this...

...they're holding their increasingly pulmonary breath for some more animation and music; we'll have a little movie eventually. All in good time.