“I would imagine death as a cellar full of paintings”

Landscapes. Portraits.  Canvas dripping watercolour or squirming in acrylic. Paper pores closing their mouths as the smell of life turned cold permeates the room.  Paper pores squeezing their eyes shut tight to the darkness. Colours greying with the damp running in rivulets down the walls and they breathe - collapsed lungs beneath wrinkled skin.  Landscapes. … Continue reading “I would imagine death as a cellar full of paintings”