Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Echo-o-o-o.

Okay. Maybe I told a teensy lie about not drawing greek myths. But this could be any of a number of mournful chicks. Really, is there a story out there that doesn't have at least one pale-limbed waif that loses it in the wilderness?
(All of the best ones go crazy and they all tend to loosen their locks, cling to the rocks, and slowly fade into the wind or the water.)

And don't feel sorry for Poor Echo. Whatever you were told about her was probably incomplete. She was a master of distraction and would stall Hera with rambling stories while Zeus dallied in the woods with his latest lovely. Big Mama eventually found out and administered appropriate justice. It wasn't until after Echo was cursed that the whole Narcissus-by-the-Pool thing happened.

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