My fist – a home of dreams

This picture you see is a firework, a shooter of transparent memories. A vivid piece of artwork, fumbling across my face with veins growing up in the sky outwards and inwards a low key noise/ stammering through the delicacy of time/ Isn’t it strange? The oval diaphragm painted so calmly. I see this pink sapphireContinue reading “My fist – a home of dreams”