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Caramere is made to fulflll my dream to grow through the glass ceiling.
A friend wrote about this work:
a Dutch master
Rembrandtesque
darkness mixed with pastoral imagery –
It is like a mystical dawn in a forest after a vikings’ or witches’ gathering the night before, with the thick morning fog flowing over the blooming spring flowers and the asleep, exhausted, naked bodies of the party-goers.
Or maybe a bird’s-eye view of a sleeping god or giant, its knees reaching up through the clouds like mountains piercing the heavens, the beautiful forests exploding in colourful fertility under its body.
Caramere is made to fulflll my dream to grow through the glass ceiling.
A friend wrote about this work:
a Dutch master
Rembrandtesque
darkness mixed with pastoral imagery –
It is like a mystical dawn in a forest after a vikings’ or witches’ gathering the night before, with the thick morning fog flowing over the blooming spring flowers and the asleep, exhausted, naked bodies of the party-goers.
Or maybe a bird’s-eye view of a sleeping god or giant, its knees reaching up through the clouds like mountains piercing the heavens, the beautiful forests exploding in colourful fertility under its body.
Caramere is made to fulflll my dream to grow through the glass ceiling.
A friend wrote about this work:
a Dutch master
Rembrandtesque
darkness mixed with pastoral imagery –
It is like a mystical dawn in a forest after a vikings’ or witches’ gathering the night before, with the thick morning fog flowing over the blooming spring flowers and the asleep, exhausted, naked bodies of the party-goers.
Or maybe a bird’s-eye view of a sleeping god or giant, its knees reaching up through the clouds like mountains piercing the heavens, the beautiful forests exploding in colourful fertility under its body.
test
Caramere is made to fulflll my dream to grow through the glass ceiling.
A friend wrote about this work:
a Dutch master
Rembrandtesque
darkness mixed with pastoral imagery –
It is like a mystical dawn in a forest after a vikings’ or witches’ gathering the night before, with the thick morning fog flowing over the blooming spring flowers and the asleep, exhausted, naked bodies of the party-goers.
Or maybe a bird’s-eye view of a sleeping god or giant, its knees reaching up through the clouds like mountains piercing the heavens, the beautiful forests exploding in colourful fertility under its body.
