The closest I've ever come to Buddhism is a reluctance to kill creatures of any kind. In my years in the East Village, in the 60s, the cockroaches and I had something of a non-agression pact, though occasionally they would cross the DMZ and pay the consequences. They weren't quite as pushy, or talented, as those in Joe's Apartment. But I didn't like to do it. However, I did not (and still don't) believe in or practice vegetarianism. Nevertheless, ever since reading most of Kerouac, most of The Dancing Wu Li Masters, and The Tao of Pooh, I have had a great respect for some aspects of that religion, which requires disciplines I've never aspired to emulate, and insights I have, but not too successfully. This illustration just sort of happened by itself, and the title seemed right.