Rain water drips down the cold concrete, puddling on the ground amidst the detritus and moss. Crackling distant music hums and echoes down the winding pathways, aged neon signs ushering you onward to some place promising comfort of one kind or another…
(getting back into painting)
(getting back into painting)
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1280 x 909px
File Size 1.18 MB
Very cool, very atmospheric. Your work always conveys the most subtle emotions in the most interesting ways. ^v^
It's the smell of stale fry oil, colored with that acrid diesel scent... The near-tinnitus of the humming municipality, that sense of false self-assuredness you get when this street looks the same as the last. You're sure you haven't lost count, you're *sure* you know exactly where you are. It's not like you haven't been here hundreds of times before.
This is not the city's smiling, powdered face; it's the city's hairy, pimpled backside.
It's the smell of stale fry oil, colored with that acrid diesel scent... The near-tinnitus of the humming municipality, that sense of false self-assuredness you get when this street looks the same as the last. You're sure you haven't lost count, you're *sure* you know exactly where you are. It's not like you haven't been here hundreds of times before.
This is not the city's smiling, powdered face; it's the city's hairy, pimpled backside.
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