De iban-oscuro-por-entre-las-sombras
Ir a la navegaciĆ³n Ir a la bĆŗsqueda

Toxic fumes are coming out of the soft, moss-covered grounds like ghosts, visual manifestations of all the memories I Buried and Sacrificed here. The Green is slowly turning into a dull shade of dirty yellow. The caterpillar I befriended a while back is moving slowly on my finger towards my nail. Its thick skin, equally dull and dirty yellow, barely holds the parasitic larvae inside. I see them twirling. So fidgety and tight in the skin of their host, they seem anxious to burst out of this confinement, into a world slowly dying. The sickening metaphor doesnā€™t escape me. Consumed from the inside, accelerated rot, eating away sufficiency. Iā€™m part of this parasitic root.

The body as a container, but possessed, inevitable to contain what was forced within. Unwelcome minuscule eggs, little intruders.ā€

They will grow, killing the root, and find another container to attach themselves onto, hide into. Attach to a vascular system, wrap and twist around it. Haustorial roots suck the life source, penetrating codes and locks. Swollen tissue on the energy contact points.