Fuck it, I've got no idea why this pic has such charm. Maybe the granny-boots thousand yard stare, maybe the sure-fire confidence in those fist equipped hips. Those gentile yet commanding red (rubber?) boots. The very clear sense that they're... not exactly there, and the small smile that betrays the fact that they *know* they aren't functioning. As if to say "whelp, looks like I'm broken. f u k t. No idea what's happening. This right here is the best you're getting out of me."
Maybe this masterpiece wasn't meant to... mean... anything. Totally possible that it's just a bunch of elements that ended up friends on this canvas by pure coincidence. To me, it's good and wholesome and just a faint bit nostalgic, like a home cooked countryside meal with pleasant but ultimately unfamiliar neighbors. You're not used to the silverware and the dining room's lighting is all wrong, but the meal is delicious all the same.
Fuck it, I've got no idea why this pic has such charm. Maybe the granny-boots thousand yard stare, m
