autumn of the soul
all the layers of memories of the age of the carnal body are left waiting for the wet mind that flinches at the thought of destruction
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the silence of the horizon intoxicates me, nothing can be more soothing than the desert in the world stretched by green fog, where atavistic corpses intertwine with simulacra and kites that travel next to ephemeral androcephals and raise their agony in steam /////// a project from classic sketches passed through A.I. filters, by CATALIN NEGREA
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another altar forgotten by the wind
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