I look up at stars and sigh,
Why cant the earth below me grow as bright
In this dream
The rain sings me to sleep,
I wake up to a grey sky of dot pixels and the sound of static.
"Do we live according to a pre-written plan?
Is there a writer who keeps messing with our scripts?
Works from Zeynep İnal, a sculptor from İstanbul
Premiering illustrations from Rakitha!