Barred Tiger Salamander (Ambystoma mavortium mavortium) by John Clare
Via Flickr:
7 week old larva, showing the anatomy of the mouth and the flap that prevents water entering the digestive tract. They start to really colour up in yellow when they near metamorphosis. August 10th 2013. The fruit of my captive breeding efforts. The ones I’ve kept run from just 2 inches (5 cm) to over 6 inches (15 cm). The growth rate of some has been phenomenal.

Spark whatever I did to lose your trust I’m sorry. I love you with all my heart.

I’m not how you now most likely think I am. I promise. I have intense trouble knowing what to do in any situation and I just try to make the other person happy.

I swear I didn’t know I was making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I love you. If I’d known I would’ve stopped asap

You’ll never see this and I’ll schedule it to post after I’ve died.

I love you Spark. I’m sorry.

We do not, or need not, despair of drawing because all lines must be either curved or straight, nor of painting because there are only three “primary” colours. We may indeed be older now, in so far as we are heirs in enjoyment or in practice of many generations of
ancestors in the arts. In this inheritance of wealth there may be a danger of boredom or of anxiety to be original, and that may lead to a distaste for fine drawing, delicate pattern, and “pretty” colours, or else to mere manipulation and over-elaboration of old material, clever and heartless. But the true road of escape from such weariness is not to be found in the wilfully awkward, clumsy, or misshapen, not in making all things dark or unremittingly violent; nor in the mixing of colours on through subtlety to drabness, and the fantastical complication of shapes to the point of silliness and on towards delirium. Before we reach such states we need recovery. We should look at green again, and be startled anew (but not blinded) by blue and yellow and red. We should meet the centaur and the dragon, and then perhaps suddenly behold, like the ancient shepherds, sheep, and dogs, and horses— and wolves. This recovery
fairy-stories help us to make. In that sense only a taste for them may make us, or keep us, childish.
—  J.R.R. Tolkien, On Fairy Stories