Life as a Genre child is so simple: draw with Mamman and play with Pappa day after day after day, with only the occasional long nap to break monotony. There are so many things to look forward to in the future: going back to Mamman's home, or visiting Uncle, or even going to school. But seasons pass outside that window and grey hair sprouts from gold, and time's rugged hands don't seem to dare land on a Genre child's shoulder.
I like to render too much and have way too dynamic perspectives. Enjoy!