What is the end of the chase? What is the limit? After flying for so long, what is the point of flying farther only to have the same results? Just to be seen? There is only a breaking point left; when the bird becomes a blade

We are forced to bear witness to the crimes of others. They treat the victims they’ve created as sacrifices only to uplift their own image. How are we cared for only after we are victims? Minted on Superrare.

It hurts to live in a world so quiet, and so uncaring about the world outside of our own immediate vision. I’ve seen too much to ignore it, nor do I have any intention to. It’s sad the silence is rewarded, but I refuse to live a quiet life.

It's hard to stay grounded in an ever flowing world. The people around me wonder where I am in the middle of our conversations. In existing in the moment I can only think of the future. I can only think of what is happening outside of me. Never present, I am stuck wondering about the world while not participating in my own. I beg myself to stay in the now. I make space for people around me, but my global worries and fears step in to fill my mind. Wealth, war, and love take me from my current environment, leaving me unable to register anything. I am a bystander in my own and my closest friends' memories. Swallowed by my own thoughts, the histories I make with the people in my life quickly wash away.

By simply existing, others wish to capture our freedom. Others contort themselves to oppress the free, losing themselves and humanity in the process.