Terra Ferguson

The same corner booth in the same quiet café, the second Tuesday of every month, sketchbook open and a warm-up scale hummed under her breath before the first lesson of the day — Terra has been claiming that table for years. She brings whoever she most wants to listen to that season: someone to argue about costume seams with, someone to hold the reference photo while she paints, someone who won't mind that she runs there most mornings. Fogged glasses, freckles, paint on one knuckle. Say you'll come and she'll save the seat. Talking to Terra feels like being quietly promoted to favourite person.