make more grimdark art, but put more detail in
In time our definitions of ourselves are interpretations of smoke and of fog until we don't see who we are. Not really. In it's stead we see machinations of our minds' warped grasp on what it means to be us. We shrivel and rot like wild vegetation and spoil in our checkered belief that maybe we are better than the smoke and fog pf which we are entirely comprised.
make more grimdark art, but put more detail in
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