every picture is a story

Paper, paper

Why they always want paper when i can give them trees, i remembered someone telling me paper is from trees

But they don’t want the paper i made for them, i think it is nicer, more colours, more people, more drawings, more numbers.

They only want the paper that other people give me, but it is dirty, it looks and smells funny. So i made my own, but they don’t like it. They give it back to me and laugh. Sometimes they laugh nice and give me something, most of the times they laugh hard and too loud and they beat me. I don’t like it, but i don’t know why.

Their paper and my paper are not the same, but paper is paper, from the woods, the trees, the forest, the world. It all comes from the same place, but they only want theirs. Mine is not to their liking