The night is false, sometimes the night is.
Sometimes I let myself be part of it, you see, I am a coward.
We let ourselves into the garden; how grandeur, how want. The lost soft supple abstract.
“My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder…. My sufferings are part of myself and my art.”
Edward Munch
INSTAGRAM
BANDCAMP
YOUTUBE