This picture was taken just before Maoxie's exile to the suburbs in order to encapsulate everything Jake and Maoxie have shared and will share over the years. It didn't turn out quite as well as some family portraits of yore, so mostly I like to look at it as a pictoral allegory. Is this a fair approach? Hm. Indulge me. On the left we have Maoxie, blitzing for the windowsill in order to seek stimuli from the outside. On the right is Jake, yearing to embrace our little feline, but also understanding xer otherworldly needs. Finally, in the background hover several overbearing, unbearably dull and yet steady images of rolling stock. Interpret the overall package as you will; it speaks to me in unprecedented ways. The whimsical yet strikingly clear boxcar aura wreathing Maoxie's furry head cuts with the sharpness of Phaedrus's blade, coring a sphere into eighths. Call me crazy.