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Turbacz, summer 2009

You can also read a story inspired by this pic:
Death DelusionI remember the old, green days. The days which were filled with the birds singing, the leafs getting brown slowly before hitting the ground, telling all humans autumn had finally come. I remember how I used to play in the countryside, in the forest, on the mountain tops. However, they are but memories, beautiful, yet filled with pain and desire. All that once was, is gone now: if I walk the same forest, I only see the black coal on which used to be a tree, I only see death where used to be life, I see nothing but the agony nature suffered on the day of the song. The song that, in only a few words, changed the most lovely landscape into an area crying for one little seed bringing life back to where it used to be.
I still wonder how a voice could do that much in such little time. It must have been some kind of magic, some kind of old ritual that was never supposed to be carried out. Yet this woman did. I remember the sweet start of the song: a fragile sound echoed through the trees, clim by

And a poem by lazyarrow :

darkness surrounds us
sheds flying blankets
covers linnen soft
silent float above
muting any sound
closing any wound
cover every eye
holds cheeks
in gentle hands
kisses you dear
to dark sleep
rests so deep
to waken
no need

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Description
Facebook |Society6 |Patreon |Tumblr

Turbacz, summer 2009

You can also read a story inspired by this pic:
Death DelusionI remember the old, green days. The days which were filled with the birds singing, the leafs getting brown slowly before hitting the ground, telling all humans autumn had finally come. I remember how I used to play in the countryside, in the forest, on the mountain tops. However, they are but memories, beautiful, yet filled with pain and desire. All that once was, is gone now: if I walk the same forest, I only see the black coal on which used to be a tree, I only see death where used to be life, I see nothing but the agony nature suffered on the day of the song. The song that, in only a few words, changed the most lovely landscape into an area crying for one little seed bringing life back to where it used to be.
I still wonder how a voice could do that much in such little time. It must have been some kind of magic, some kind of old ritual that was never supposed to be carried out. Yet this woman did. I remember the sweet start of the song: a fragile sound echoed through the trees, clim by

And a poem by lazyarrow :

darkness surrounds us
sheds flying blankets
covers linnen soft
silent float above
muting any sound
closing any wound
cover every eye
holds cheeks
in gentle hands
kisses you dear
to dark sleep
rests so deep
to waken
no need

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