Leonid Pesenti
- The scorching black
Don't feed the scorching black, do not fuel its tempting tendencies and maybe (maybe) you'll be able to hear it slither away, its tail scratching the soil with the razor blades that grew from within. Maybe (maybe) it doesn't actually come from inside and has nothing to do with your inner machinations, its nature external. Take a breath, two, three. It doesn't work: you're boiling, and the vibrations could shatter anything at any time. Is it going to eat through you, or are you gonna fight?
Leonid Pesenti
- A slice of life
Sometimes things get very hard, unbearably hard, and it becomes easy to lose track of what it is you're fighting for. But then, like lightning in broad daylight - or better - as a beam of sunlight during a storm, a sequence of events puts you in a different position and allows you out of the cycle: whatever it is, do not stop moving.
Leonid Pesenti
- "post-apocalyptic high fashion"
A barren landscape engulfs what once was, the essence of human creation undone by its own blood-covered hands. Dust clouds bloated with death breathe over the remnants; It has killed what It made, greed led the way. Yet traces remain, traces of past beauties, of past civilizations where matter was chosen over soul. The cult of materialism will not disappear and the rotten core of the human soul will persevere in its wickedness... but aesthetics will find a way.
