Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.
Look up.
Tell me what you see.
How it is. How it is going to be.
In his dream she was sick and he cared for her. The dream bore the look of sacrifice but he thought differently. He did not take care of her and she died alone somewhere in the dark and there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell.
The solitude of madness. Design by me, photography by the brilliant MirjamÂ
Mom & Dad.
