Day 241 of Current Days: Craving the avian body
Why are birds so perfect? In their perfectly tailored, tiny suits. Their feathery little breeches.
Take away our clothes and everything we own. We would huddle on the grass like wretched worms. With sagging bellies. Only our trousers keep us together.
Birds just are. They exist. Indifferent to their own perfection. Always clean. Nice smell. They only get dirty after death. Until the soft tissues decompose. Then they are clean again. Perfect.
Yes, birds are perfect. Just like flowers. Birds are like flowers. But after a flower dies, not even a scent remains.
Perfection: Existence Construction within the Brush Jar Shadows, Study of a raven skull among blue shadows in the studio, 40x40cm, oil on canvas, 2026
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