I’m Abian. And I live in Africa; down south where the Indian has skirmishes with the Atlantic and makes a mess of things. I hit the world open-eyed and slimy, and have ever since been startled at the unfathomable oddness and beauty of it all. My childhood was sort of muddy and sunny, stained the colour of grass. It was stuffed with Lego, garnished with handmade bows (best aimed at a sister), and iced with wonder at how perfectly similar sticks and swords are. That’s probably why I write. And illustrate.
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