Today we tasted of mother as this placid insanity ran deep, as they say with our still waters and the eyes of godless infants. Gorging ourselves on tainted fruits and forbidden thoughts, she was not witness to our blasphemy but father told of our discretions, though no wind came, no great plague, nothing but the calm before the storm, one we all knew was bound to be what we had feared, a ravaging
assault designed to cleanse us of that which we had learned from these most recent of sins. Our apples are that of what is meant to be hidden but this knowledge is held tight against the breast, something that cannot be so easily taken, mother now knows and her breath slowly builds, will our flesh be torn from bone or will we drown in our silent decadence?




story by nihil.





model:
everything else by me
assistants: and Moon


sharpened, and colour changes and a couple dirt removals from my camera. but asides from that straight from camera.