I had more to say about this self-portrait, but my mind is drawing a blank. You can see more details here.
what can one say about blue eyes that haven’t been said a million times before, the feral shine of ice burning through all heart and matter, cuz the love we know, means nothing to his ancient soul that only knows the eternal struggle, the unrelenting fire of a battle that have lasted for eons
the birth of a universe takes time and pain
defending an unknown gate, a treasure no one else has ever saw, under the green sky of an alien cave, from ages before this age, a soft song grows inside a cocoon, a white silky womb keeps the tiny notes safe, flowing and blooming, revolving in their mighty uterus … his treasure, his burden and destination… evolves and drips tingling drops of clarity
and he stands, sword in hand, feeding himself with anger and sweat, forever fighting his violent war because the womb/uterus needs the hostile wound of the sword to keep birthing songs.