Asheton Torry

Hearts Broken Open

Faint golden rays break over the half standing remains of ruins, the ruins of unfinished foundations from a time before the "uplifting". Back when people crowded in and around and through, monuments of stone and glass and metal, endlessly paying reverence and tithe to their gods of falsehood and decadence, their gods that depressed them and oppressed them. Their gods that gave them scarcity and they celebrated for "having" while truly lacking; their gods that gave them addiction and they celebrated for "feeling" while seeking after numbness; their gods that gave them death and they celebrated for "living" if you could in fact call it that. That was how "she" painted them.