not a mention to the wall within, still in the midst of the storm the small rabbit waits. watching on as night slowly passes her to the hope of brighter days.

---

this feeling that overtakes, that freezes in the fear. something i paradoxically have creating happily yet not to show a soul out of fear. fear of what, to pass it being the reflection of the artist but to have the creation eaten eagerly twisted and used in a machan of lies. maybe that makes sense at this point.

if the world is but madness theres no stoping no point in holding back but to create fundamentally new things that can not be recreated save for one touch of creativity time and true care.

fuff it, to war for fur an freedom~

nettle and art are my own, made by paw~