a silver golden background. exquisitely crafted butterflies on them.
then you take a closer look. they are alive. they won't be for much longer anyway. you watch life ebb out. you make life ebb out. you call it art.
damien hirst's art.
they are not from endangered species, they said.
but they still make me cry. no matter what you think, they do.
why is it getting so difficult to get what's going on? this is not the way things are supposed to be.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Sharpened pencils, twisted tongues, dulled wits, tarnished dreams and all that makes a day bearable or unbearable. Depending on the day. But not mondays. Those are uniformly ugly.
About Me
- oxyacetelyne
- fat boring woman with small life, large feet and many footwear.has ability to put aforementioned foot in her mouth with clockwork regularity