Imagine: A Surreal-Relatable Hell
Imagine a place where imagination becomes the forgotten sin, for the view leaves nothing to be imagined. A place where all things edible and lovely sprout wings and fly away. Yet the madman stays, feasting on amber and anguish seasoned with his own delusions—Day in, day out.
Starting with a blank; to receive, not to offer.
By allowing the work be, I am allowed to have a work and one fine day, I am given my question, in a way that it has answered itself.