Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The snapping of branches like bones beneath my feet, this Forest of Ancient Ancestors holds a loathing presence.
One which we do not speak, for we do not know the words, but feel within the course of our veins; born again for the thousandth time.
The Monster is escaping from the womb before it's Time.
Watercolor, pencils, photoshop