An except from a poem written for a character with a bit of a problem in the “catastrophic obstinance” department.
An icon floats in a field of stained glass and prison bars, the title text engraved in black on a plain altar below. An industrial park and distant skyline and a layer of concrete grunge add distressed texture to the scene.
Ghostly castles and manors dominate a landscape of mountains and cliffs, with fairy lights and flowers under a brooding sky. The title text hangs at
Sometimes you’re so sick the only thing you can manage is goofing off in photoshop. Last week I had one of those days, and now
Two people in a dark, snowy wood, their fate ambiguous. A texture layer of insanely crusty paint highlights the pair and gives the whole scene
Grief isn’t something that happens in one go, and it isn’t something that stays in its box. I find every funeral I end up at
The background of this image pulls together a cityscape, some watch innards, and a peach-colored rose along with vintage illustrations of women from several time
It is the Strange Times, and every single person on the planet, even the boring ones, is unspeakably, unknowably WEIRD. You can read more about
