We all knew this time would come. The non-existant time between 3 and 4 in the morning where every sense of reality is lost, minootas have stopped passing by, and all that comes in to my golova is a mix of tortuous thoughts induced by all of today's to do's and whatnot's. There is a strange numbness to my brain.
The time when I am left alone in this vast domy. Nothing else exists but me and the distant zvook of a bird. Some foot-steps, perhaps. The zvook of iron moving. Dookly zvooks. The mortifying zvooks I don't know their origin.
But, within this paralel dimmension just created, I remember something I have wanted to show the world, and that is my so called Artwork. So, there you go, sleepy-self. Please, feel free to post whatever nonsense you may.
The time when I am left alone in this vast domy. Nothing else exists but me and the distant zvook of a bird. Some foot-steps, perhaps. The zvook of iron moving. Dookly zvooks. The mortifying zvooks I don't know their origin.
But, within this paralel dimmension just created, I remember something I have wanted to show the world, and that is my so called Artwork. So, there you go, sleepy-self. Please, feel free to post whatever nonsense you may.
Technique: I drew all of it, using a regular 2H pencil.
"Not all those who wander are lost" - JRR Tolkien
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