These are marks on paper. They mean something to me; do they mean something to you? I spend all my time inventing characters in my head. As the crow chases the mannequin girl across the page, I think about what they symbolise. Is the mannequin a hollow placeholder for our fantasies? She is “perfect” and we are not. And what of the crow? If he represents nature, then nature is both beautiful and horrifying in the crow’s instinct to survive. Do you need to see blood to remember we are alive? Do you realise what we fantasise about is choking us? Or do you need that fantasy to escape to because your reality is more terrible than ours could ever be?