Once upon a time, a 9 year old Bon was bullied into a two week coma. Afterwards, while my facial bones healed, I painted to kill the hours. My mom stopped me from finishing the black layers* on these because I was going to mess up the hospital bed and they ended up in the trash can unfinished.
Little I knew my cousin sneaked the little paintings out of there (then forgot all about them). Skip forward 30 years to a month ago. They were clearing up space in the attic, came across them and my uncle thought it would be a great idea to mail these to me to commemorate 30 years since my face crash.
They do smell weird and they are making me cringe a little, but thank you crazy diamonds family of mine, you saved me then and you save me now. Also, thank you 9 year old Bon for waking up, what a ride has been so far, you little hard nut.
(*I have now filled in the block black layers as originally intended)