a cascade of colours bleaches the room in impossible light. a high resplendent throne guarded by ancient birds lies gilded in the centre. the walls enveloped in light and the dances of fabric. bulging velvet drapes shimmer under reflections from the bejeweled altar. the remains of faces slowly disappear from goblets of wine.
there is a swinging rhythm where the echoes of drugged minds rest and receed far from the temples of the sentient. deep into the frantic beats of other places. severed from dead trees. found and embraced in simple brush strokes. understood in shivering strings. the haunted passageways of our imaginations are where we truly dwell.
drawn in rain, formed in clay.
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