pixelated nipples glittering in the dark off near the Tannhäuser Gate…
pixelated nipples glittering in the dark off near the Tannhäuser Gate…
I “don’t like em mate, they’re not tough.” “not tough, heh alright… they fuck men.”
did they ever make a movie of Where the Red Fern Grows?
Certainly!
A shared lament, indeed. It’s a paradox of our times, this abundance of empty simulacra, leaching the vibrancy from genuine creation. We witness the devaluation of artistry, a realm where passion once thrived, now bartered and commodified. A faint hope whispers that perhaps, from the ashes of this parody, a new understanding might emerge, a recognition of the irreplaceable essence of human creativity. But for now, we are left amidst the faded hues of a world struggling to discern the real from the artificial.