'451'
Today, only ashes remain,
gods vomiting out
curses that scorch the breeze,
polluting it,
making it unbreathable.
Injured birds, broken wings,
angels with deformed faces
and the devastation that is left,
after all the rage.
Today, only ashes remain,
gods vomiting out
curses that scorch the breeze,
polluting it,
making it unbreathable.
Injured birds, broken wings,
angels with deformed faces
and the devastation that is left,
after all the rage.
This was the poem that introduced the collection. And here's a statement from the designer :
'451' is a reflection on the human condition, death, ours and that we cause. It is a metaphor for the devastation and desolation that we produce and at the same time will inevitably consume. It is a point of caring about ourselves, about what we do and where to go.
'451' is a reflection on the human condition, death, ours and that we cause. It is a metaphor for the devastation and desolation that we produce and at the same time will inevitably consume. It is a point of caring about ourselves, about what we do and where to go.
