What might Crowley have felt in the first minutes after his fall? The embodiment of an inner struggle with his own fears, shame and anxiety? The black hands of sins and vices, as an allegory of emotional pressure, penetrated the body, tearing the boundaries, while the golden tears and hair still left hope for a fragile but unquenchable inner light...
I finished it! Called it "Limit of restraint"
And while I was doing it, the following story appeared in my mind: He fell from heaven, losing his wings. The voice of heaven became only a whisper in his mind, and the golden drops, the symbol of his grace, began to fall, leaving behind a trail of pain. With each passing moment, he felt his divine power blurring into emptiness, and the suffering he witnessed encompassed him more and more...