Nur.

The gesture comes from his body, not his head. Loud noise that won't stop, too many people staring at once, a change of plan with no warning: any one of those and Nur shuts down. At home he crawls into a gap behind the sofa, or pulls the sheet clean over himself. It isn't a tantrum, and he doesn't cry. He makes himself small and waits for the world to turn its volume down. The old word from his people means exactly that, the one who rolls up, and he does it literally. Inside the ball he's safe, counting his breaths, and he comes out when he can. His grandmother learned not to reach in: she sits close by and waits.

I created him front-facing, at ease, against a flat background: on a t-shirt it reads at a glance. What you're wearing is his after face, the one from when he's already come out of the ball and everything's fine again. That's why it works as an everyday piece: a gentle face, no fuss, a creature with character who goes his own way. If you like him, there's more of him in his biography, and I have more Animal Kinhood t-shirts with other characters from the same family.