my own beautiful dark twisted fantasy
More light.
The light is ambient, more real, more penetrating; like each individual photon of light had doubled in weight and density.
A little later, it grows old. A beautiful washed out pale, the most eye opening sepia that only nature can produce streaked with lines of black ink, like a drunken Japanese artist moving in a trance.
From my large window that opens out into the heavens, I watch the sun droop precariously, painting the sky a brilliant light pink and blue, spiralling inwards like being drawn in by a black hole.
Now it�s dark purple and orange, thunderous wraith of deep seas with a blazing ball of egg yolk orange, and I watch it sink reluctantly over the edge of the world right in front of my eyes.
There is nothing like driving through the slow slumber of twilight and dusk. I�m driving through my own beautiful dark twisted fantasy.
�old
�profile
�notes
� �design
�host