I am selfish.

I am human.

I change myself, I change the



Thoughts are the shaddows

of our feelings

unfinished buildings,

lost civilization

misuse of power, eternal damnation

all their fibs merely grabbed our


and made us realize we truly hate them

Forget it all

We will become


You’ve ruined something beautiful

You’ve ruined something special

All the burdens you left behind

I hope you burn in Hell.

Beauty vs. the Sublime

Through the vortex of your heart, everything

was rattled

Moral culpability vs.


I’ve been sitting in this completely

beige cell for 6 hours 22 minutes and

43 seconds (44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49)

I am nothing without my technology.

As I sit here upon the heath, I can’t help but ponder the bittersweet feeling that is isolation.

Savoring the glory of the scenery, but always knowing in the back of my mind I’l always be alone

Isolation vs. Solitude

Your body is scattered along the solar syste

m; A rememberance of where you’ve been

The snake that cannot shed

skin parishes

I noticed that my artwork, for the most part, correlated well

with my prompts. There weren’t any drastic differences between the

prompts and most of them questioned existential forces and consequential

and impending doom. I mostly stuck with writing poems or

letters, with an interpersonal voice reflecting about an event.

The visuals acted as a mise en scene of sorts and allowed me to

elaborate about what I drew in the form of a story. My favorite prompt

was probably isolationism because it resulted in my favorite drawing

and story. My favorite materials that we used were probably just the

pencil and paper because it was very simplified and allowed me to fix

my mistakes more effectively than say charcoal or paint.

I took risks in most of the prompts because I went at it blind and

hoped for the best. It’s always risky when you have to come up with

something to write based on the artwork you create and don’t have a

basis for it.

Some consistencies I noticed from my artwork were that it is

quite negative and also, all my characters that I draw are my own style,

something I never realized before.

The futility of life

Lack of perception

Coming of age



Ways of escape





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