Then the moment of ecstatic freedom came. The peace, the end of the quest, the last harbor, the joy of belonging to a fulfillment beyond men's lousy, pitiful, greedy fears and hopes and dreams! And several other times in my life, when I was swimming far out, or lying alone on a beach, I have had the same experience. Became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide. Like a saint's vision of beatitude. Like the veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see—and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning!
feeeelllll soooooo badddd
if god is real then he’s a fucking bitch
done in India ink, intended to be a hellhound feasting on a victim but it seems to be more in the context of a werewolf
I used the painting ‘the first mourning’ by william-adolphe bouguereau as reference
‘is God in this packed-up room?’ - April, 2024
Taken at my Grandmothers house after her death.
