CREATURE COMFORT
They stripped the flesh from the bones and tossed it into the blood thickened sea sucking and spluttering gorged on waste and destruction and buoyant with putrid oil the flayed and filthy night gave way now to a violent and remorseful morn where silence seemed to stretch the very air which had been rendered asunder by the agonies of the helpless creature as it lunged in vain to escape its tormentors was it the heart they so coveted that which they themselves had lost what remained no man can say but still it heaved and clawed until at last solid purchase was reached upon which it inched and gouged its skeletal form from shore to rock at last to stand as memorial indeed for all who passed to recognise that those who doubt the soul or doubt the spirit in this world are further yet from comfort than this stark creature of the deep Text by Padre Diablo - Photography by The Flying Monk - Form by Sionidh MacAualay |
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June 2021
WRONG WAY STREET
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