Life. A picture.
The deceptiveness of the clean lines reveal a depth that intoxicates.
A book...
A key...
Trees, neatly lined and numbered...
A gate...
The sudden flight of birds...
Life. Look deep and you awoke the next moment in infernal dreams.
No exit.
I saw myself dreaming. But I could not rouse myself to wake.
I saw as in my half awakened stupor, the cause of my undoing.
There stood in the garden the deliverance of my being.
But i remain asleep in infernal dreams...
I knew I was lost. But words failed to describe my plight.
Moebius drew it for me.
