We are clay and nothing is real for us except the uncanny womb of Being into which we shall return.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
We are clay and nothing is real for us except the uncanny womb of Being into which we shall return.
We are clay and nothing is real for us except the uncanny womb of Being into which we shall return.
We are clay and nothing is real for us except the uncanny womb of Being into which we shall return.