for funerals to come
by maenadart
Winter is at hand, and now the autumn season prepares cold's chill grip. The flowers I take are dead and fragile-like them, I must face what is coming. I can hear the whispers of the dead in the roots, their stories entwining with the vines I pull from the graves. Each stem bleeds the memory of those who once breathed, and I honor them with these dead flowers I stole from their graves. I press against my lips what was once alive, tasting the decay and the remnants of life in its petals. Tools & Technique: Created with Procreate using ink brushes. AI was used as a reference, tracing method was employed.
- Chain
- TEZOS
- Network
- Tezos
- Contract
- KT1SNa3JFzpJwFNCChJtELh9htCJ1fQFBECN
- Token ID
- 33
Backed up
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