Other 𝚘𝚌 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

[bit]

yo! so this is something i do for writing exercises, i basically write a pseudo-diary entry from the perspective of one of my characters. they’re also accompanied by a quick illustration, if i have the time for it. i’ll be posting them here from now on just because someone may enjoy them, haha~​

 

[bit]

Eden
————
Kit asked me something funny today. He wanted to know why I photograph such boring things, as opposed to action shots or big, life-changing moments — if I didn’t mind answering, he added. I laughed, considered how to respond, and said something along the lines of, “Well, I don’t really know. I guess I just prefer the little things?”



He accepted that answer — never really one to push past others’ limits, that Kit — but I think he could tell I wasn’t telling the whole truth. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m hiding some dark secret! It’s just...I dunno, more trouble than it’s worth to explain. I can shoot a high-scoring picture for class just fine, if I wanted to. The human eye is simple; meet a certain standard of balance and aesthetic, and it’s easy to please. Surface level fundamentals are valued over — and often mistaken for — talent in any artistically driven field, and as such, I comply to their expectations. The true artist, however, appeals to the viewer’s mind. To be able to pull at the strings of nostalgia and pathos, all from the subject of a single static image...this is what I believe to be true beauty. True talent.



The “mundane” is such a silly concept to me. To think that by its mere existence, it negates any and all ability to be remotely interesting or engaging. And yet, I find it extraordinary. Haha, how could that be? It’s nothing but the smudged charcoal on an artist’s canvas. The incomprehensible blur from turning one’s head to face another direction. Unimportant static designed to be overlooked, temporary mars on the slates of our lives. But it’s during those moments that we don’t realize how truly content we are.



I guess it’s sort of stupid when I write it all out, huh? After all, if you obsess over the little moments, they lose their significance. Or...lack thereof? Haha, whatever. Maybe I really am a bad photographer that’s just gotten too full of himself.

​

 

[bit]

Claude

——————

The air nowadays is positively fetid. Profaned by the dreariness of man’s disillusions, the distorted promises that keeps these rodents running merrily on their wheel. Yes, I confess that I’ve become rather cynical in these fleeting few centuries, but who wouldn’t? Undeath has bound me to this rotting circus, and I’ve nothing to do but watch as the tent smolders to inferno. I should be laughing, shouldn’t I? It should be grand to witness humanity’s foolish, self-inflicted demise.

Thinking back on it, I can’t recall when I no longer considered myself human. The notion of “formerly human” did stick for a spell, naive though it may seem. As if I’d maintained a connection with their world. As if they’d pity a sanguinary monster.

...

I am not human.

I owe nothing to the depravity of their kind.

So then, why...



Why do I still yearn for their warmth?

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