|I believe that this is my best pencil drawing so far|
Geiniku After passing by the meat display yet again I finally relented and stopped before the attendant standing on the other side. The overpriced whale meat came in varying sizes, though most chunks were far too much for me to carry home on the train. The attendant, having spotted me, rushed from one end of his stall to the other.Geiniku by TakiYume
“The belly meat here is very nice. Indeed, it’s very delicious.”
I really have no idea what I am looking at. My hesitation spurs the attendant into further action. He puts on gloves, begins lifting one of the larger portions onto the scale. He’s talking about texture and taste but I’m not really listening. My eyes scan the display before I look back to the portion in the attendant’s hands.
“It might be too much for me.”
He blinks at me for a second before grabbing the whale and returnin
AestheticAestheticAesthetic by TakiYume
“The Detective” hung in the northwest corner of the Beckett Art Gallery. The tempera painting occupied a space as tall as a man and twice as wide. The woman depicted had her head turned away from the world, occupied with an object behind her, perhaps the mirror in which her blurred reflection appeared. It was this disregard for the world that created emptiness in that corner of the gallery. Few wished to give time to a woman who had no time for them.
After three days of display time and few visitors The Detective turned her head to her spectators. Slowly people stopped on the flowing journey through the gallery, watching as the woman first stood from her chair, smoothed her rumpled skirt, and turned toward her growing audience. She grabbed the sides of her skirt, lifting slightly as she took a dainty step over the frame of the painting.
The Detective bent a knee, clasped a hand around the locket on her neck and dipped her head in a timid manner. Her pale sk
The SymphonyThe SymphonyThe Symphony by TakiYume
I wrap myself in frayed thread
wishing they were w i n g s
to fly away in skeleton wind
to a leggiadro place
a frail snowflake palace
where the march is played mancando
fading with the clash of wind to a whispering breeze
the aria niente
where dancers twirl
on silver shoes
and the golden baton ticks
|This gallery contains|
Fantasy Literature (A LOT!!!)
If you can't find some of these items, try looking in the folders marked Other Art or Other Literature. They'll most likely be there.