Surreal Reductionism by Wings Of An Angel

I had then walked and walked forward on, with abrupt and unhesitating steps, leaving behind and beneath me a landscape of emotional chaos and languishing turmoil... I was alone again; an indisputable shadow piercing through the dense light. The clouds had no sign of giving up, force-feeding me with rain and occasional doses of excessive oxidation. I hardly breathed; at times I almost forgot my own name and place of origin... I moved through the darkening terrain, stepping to and fro unrecognizable crowds of human-like robots dressed in traditional attire, constantly reincarnating monsters and transparent biblical creatures. I passed a lovelorn tomb and an empty forest without a birthmark. I kept on walking even though by then I didn't know whether i'm dead or alive... I took some photographs but had nowhere to develop them. So I ate them to keep me safe from starvation. I saw a crippled young girl offering poisonous candies to funnily dressed women, and strangely beautiful very old men offering their bygone youth to unborn babies. I could hear the distant noises of war but also the comforting buzz of nature's cutting edge freedom. I walked forward like a zombie with closed eyes, led not by my eyesight but by my rusty inner compass... Where to? I wish I'd known. Or... Do I, actually? Perhaps it's better not to know anything...
We know not where our separate paths lead us, none of us know anything, as a matter of fact. We play an occasional role here and there; yet everything we are is a theatrical mirage; each one of us being a minor player in this surreal shadow theater. You may believe in whatever you want or whoever you want; it doesn't matter to me. You may lead your life according to society's compass or the fathomed rules of your psyche... You may be and/or choose to be a clown or a god... I will still pass through you as if you were a random ghostly projection of my perpetually dreaming consciousness...
- - -
"A pilgrim to no where set loose to float through a starry expanse in a rusty spaceship low on supplies
as landscapes of emotion and planet home become more and more distant, just one more star in a billion galaxies
Meaning really nothing
To no one"

Beautiful and Haunting Celestial Architectures;
Humorously Referred To As An "Unmedicated Neurotic Genius", WOAA Is Often Hailed As One Of The Most Important Artists Worldwide.