These pieces are urns and trophies.

They are moldy, aged, tired, fungal, weeping, tall.

They are the visual representation of my grief.

Showing a mix between the ugliness and beauty of feeling like the world is coming to an end.

Relics that are left behind for future generations, if there is anyone left to find them.

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Chaotic in their own right, a sightly mess.

Oozing from every nook and cranny. 

What does grief look like? 

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