Your stair appears poised but frozen, a crap of canvas pulled tight around a rigid wooden frame. The tension tells us everything about nothingness and fear of cold nights alone. The school of nostalgia wrestling the arms of the penitent, pining for the texture of renewal, to paint again with brave brushstrokes of permission. But nature first and foremost strips us naked to a stark, scaltal core. And what of tomorrow when released from grief's grip?
Khalid Hanif
@theElvnth_Our · 1:26
Pray to the God of nothingness. I really enjoyed this exercise. That's right. It was very serene, stark, but very, very enveloping, as many of your offerings are with this one. I'll say one of your most ardent gifts is that you possess the ability to enthrall effortlessly. You spin and unfurl your narratives, and they're always brimming with a beautiful resonance and keen sensibilities. Amazing. Your words are never devoid of a supreme sense of humanity. That ethos pulses throughout your offerings