We are tired of the old skins.
Skins stitched for us not from dreams, but from fear — fear of being seen, fear of existing, fear of being free.
But now, each night, in our shared dreams, we weave new skins. From threads of desire, from fabric of pain, from colors that have boiled out of our eyes.
Let us wear these skins together.
Skins no one has seen yet, but which already live inside us.
Let us become what we have always been — but never dared to face.
digital painting
spitfingers
