There is a place where, no matter how thirsty, it is better not to eat of the puthyrme fruit. In that place, the deceased are cremated, no matter what the mode of death.
This picture began as a random doodle using acrylic ink into pools of water on the paper, forced to dry fast under a closely directed lamp and then worked into with chalks and ink. As it evolved, it took shapes drawn from Christopher Priest’s imagined archipelago in which space-time is drawn into an vortex overlying equatorial islands such that flight is possible but traveling unpredictable. In The Islanders (2011), he writes a travelogue, a kind of guidebook, and only as you read about first one then the next of these various islands does it become apparent that this is in fact a narrative of tragedy and love. However, I think I first read the chilling story of the puthryme in an anthology, long before I had heard of the author or knew his books. That story is called The Cremation and I found it again recently in The Dream Archipelago. As I came close to finishing this drawing, its links to that story became clear in my mind.