Somehow, deciding to post about this print I’ve done of these mothmen on their marshmallow-toasting date has given me the most intense momentary sense memory of the smell and warmth of a good campfire, and now I’m a little jealous I don’t have a fire to toast marshmallows over. At least I can live vicariously through Rosy Maple Mothman and Cinnabar Mothman here.
(And so can you because you can get this print!)
