Aesthetics & Gallery

• A land hewn, fragmented but unhued; grey brick and stone, sky of black clouds with no end in sight.• The creeping, ceaseless numb of frostbite: fingers and toes then into limbs, into the chest.. making curved icicles of every rib.. until finally it grips the heart in the vice of it, bringing about a frigid stop.. This is the only embrace you've ever known.• The despair that comes from drowning in air; no matter how you breath, claw, gasp and suck, there is nothing for your lungs to take.. and so you come to desire only for the release brought by oblivion's slumbering call.• The mind's finger being licked for turning the page not of a book but a moment of crystaline learning or insight, a question that had been answered, leading onward to the next page with two dozen more.• The hum and heat in the air of the tail end of cooking or baking, hands hovering excitedly over the food to test how far it is cooled for eagerness in its deliverance.• That distracting apprehension towards the misshapen silhouettes which exhume unknowable intent just out of your periphery: ever-present, waiting, always watching.• The shawl of darkness wrapped about you like a cloak as you nestle into it, the sense of abject safety that comes with the apperception that no one can hurt your flesh or your heart if they cannot find nor see you.• The way a smile crinkles the corner of the eyes, threatens to reveal teeth between elongated lips, and the silent exhale of relief that follows a heart being lifted rather than cast aside.