Last night, the portrait that hangs over my bed started to shake, strips of dried paint raining down.
I was covered in life. The colors bled through my skin and inked my bones.
Creativity spreads.
26. Portrait Zero
Last night, the portrait that hangs over my bed started to shake, strips of dried paint raining down.
I was covered in life. The colors bled through my skin and inked my bones.
Creativity spreads.