Grey of nothing
I feel nothing. I don’t want to say something. I feel a deep hole inside of me that can’t realise all russians crimes now.
I feel nothing. It means that I can’t feel sorrow or aggression, despair or hate, or pain. All unpleasant emotions are in one large continuum, that fall down in some unknown vacuum. I also don’t feel jealous and any news has reaction like 😶😐.
My mental health decided to block all. It’s weird. And I don’t know if I don’t like it. Because I know that the war hasn’t finished and I will read and watch lots of tragedies in the nearest future. I feel like my psychics has own sanctions to reality.
It’s going to be a black and white series of artworks.
At least, I still can perceive pleasant feelings. Like love, kindnesses, freedom, light in heart, hope, passion to life.
Ink, feather on paper,
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