Drifting smells of change, glazed cranial nerves, and the underbelly stench of the city. Pale, malnourished sky, with monochromatic wispy mid tones. There is a gray misty fog that lowered down around the concrete, and at times, I try while drifting through the clouds, to reaching out for your hand. You’re closer to me in a metaphysical plane than actual distance, for distance does not really matter.
The human body is deconstructed in order to bring internal obstacles to light, which are challenged in the process of self-reconstruction. Shedding old skin creates a visual stimulus of an emerging metaphorical cocoon.
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