Inspired by a line in a song by Garbage, this piece combines several random elements that I favor: tea, the ocean, detailed hair with unexpected structural elements, colorful bubbles, and an environment of mixed metaphors. Using negative white space to cushion the softness of the gray steam tendrils, the tea - a symbol associated with being "proper" - spills through the crack in the cup gaining momentum in reverse, waving into a tempest in time with the thunderous cellist above the tidal waves, a shiny tea kettle and some happy bizarre-ness. I liken the scenes I draw to someone walking down a hallway of open doors and just quickly glancing inside to see a single moment of something interesting but inexplicable happening.