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The red sun rises without intent and shines the same on all of us. We play like children under the sun. One day, our ashes will scatter— it doesn’t matter when. Now the sun finds our innermost hearts, fills us with oblivion intense as the forest, winter and sea.
I am an artist dreaming, drawing and stitching in the South West of England. Always surrounded by books and old photographs, with lines from poems and lyrics from songs spilling from pages onto fabric...
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