b is generally five years old.

All done.

I re-did the hair. A throwback to pre-rere haircutz.
If you can go beyond the slight hint of precious moments.. I look a tad worried from the side. Maybe it’s because my decapitated head is sitting on a dirty wooden slab. Or maybe it’s because the weight of the back of my head is so much that I’m only being supported by chunks of what was my left shoulder.

Oh life. Anyway I feel like I’ve found my calling, if only I could devote twelve hours a day to making clay heads. Or afford head-amounts of clay. -sigh-