Pink_The Map Is The Territory_Ghosts of Chemicals_The Soul Within
Catalog Guide:
Pink
The rain was threatening to fall since the start of that week, but Dorian was used to the weird weather of the city. Anticipating the sun to show up later that day, he didn’t even take an umbrella when he left his house to go to work. Waiting for the bus, he observed the sky, the people and the busy street and had the impression, not for the first time in his life, that the world was stripped of color. It was built in tones of gray, some corners darker than others. The bus stopped with a loud noise and he got in. He chose a window seat, keen to just put his earphones on and watch the familiar...
The Map Is The Territory
He was a strange-looking man with an even stranger agenda, often spending his days interrogating well-meaning pedestrians on the street. Do you believe in God? He asked. Me? Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never given it a good thought. Do you believe in God? He asked again, refusing any answer besides a clear yes or no. I believe in something, maybe not God, but something.Many were frightened to interact with the man due to his intimidating physical stature; he was shaped like a large and grotesque beetle; he even embodied the mannerisms of one, often crawling underneath chairs and benches, clawing ...
Ghosts of Chemicals
I had, at best, a love-hate relationship with the past. Maybe a shy away from for months and then one night obsessively think over relationship with the past is more accurate. There were reasons why I didn't talk about it. Reasons why I told myself I was moving on, when that wasn't quite what I was doing. I was going through the motions. I had a steady job now. I had bought a new wardrobe of flashy, clunky, geeky clothes including yellow button-up shirts I could wear with a white tank top underneath, and lots of jeans I spray-painted and splattered with acrylic paints and a pair of bright yell...
The Soul Within
I have stood on this stone foundation for as long as I can remember. I remember the men and women who brought me to life all those years ago with hammers www.onedoor.ccand nails, cement and brick, paint and gold filigree. They built me over long nights and days, one wall at a time. They painted my walls and ceiling, filled me with religion and children, singing and knowledge. I have been home to many things over the years, gutted and rebuilt to make room for something different. I was a marvel for years, evident in the stares of those who would stop on the street and gaze up at me in awe.Tears have been spi...