Eternal Wine

She had never wished to be a glass. Yet in the bar, beneath the cold neon crown, everyone saw her as a vessel, something to be filled, swallowed, and discarded. Wine dripped into her hair, staining it red, and they laughed “wine hair, wine hair…” They complimented her eyes but never looked into them, praised her smile but never heard her voice. Her eyes were weary, drained of all patience, the same intoxicating shade as her wine-red hair. They did not gleam with desire but sagged beneath the weight of endless consumption. Her modern clothes and sleek accessories tethered her to this present age, while her spirit lingered like an antique, passed from hand to hand. A crown rested on her head; it pretended she was sovereign, that others were serving her. But the crown was only a mask, a curtain veiling the truth, she was a commodity wrapped in royal disguise. Beside her stood a tiny puppet, laboring in silence, the emblem of service and obedience. Yet she knew with every refill, something of her essence leaked away. Her face fractured into colors, each shade a role she was forced to play: the quiet listener, the beautiful stranger, the body on display. But behind the painted mask, a question echoed louder than the music, louder than the laughter: Am I a glass? Was she a queen with a hollow crown? Or merely a glass, doomed to be emptied and filled again? She hung suspended between ruler and sacrifice. no longer entirely human, not entirely an object, with wine-red eyes that both seduced and betrayed an eternal exhaustion. Now she stands at the border of desire and erasure, waiting to be emptied again.

Chain

TEZOS

Network

Tezos

Contract

KT1XaCf6gkjFnKg3QmPfn6gep53moMvjkj1E

Token ID

15114