Description of the authorship. The work.
The Wind of the Age.2020
Close to the apartment under a quarantine hour was unusual.Passing from the crazy rhythm, the bigani and the noise, the calm and the size of the buds seemed a fairy tale.When the new apartment, which had to become a clean ark, became my own in prison.At that time I thought about everything.About the past, the present and the dark future.It was just a few things.People who were like it from marriage air, in the masks stopped the thoughts.My unhappiness in this situation is a total depression.and the oppression.I wanted to imagine.At the time of writing the picture, I didn’t think about it.But somewhere on the subconscious level, it had to vibrate from me.He had to find a way.I wanted to imagine something that didn’t hide me.Get out of the usual forms.To combine this “something” with those emotions that flowed in that time.With those emotions and thoughts that remind the wind.A deadly death from inner experiences right in my head.The need was in the image of the “era” of the quarantine.In the end, there is only a roof on the roof.The consequences of sensitivity and isolation.Crickets of our disease, places of rosmitoy, smashed, but clearly sensitive on the background of others, the era of social distance.There, where nothing seems to happen and nothing will happen, there is a chaos that is all possible, along with the healthy foolishness of society.The wind that stretched me with all the power wrecked out.Gathering more and more items and things.More and more people have their thoughts, their experiences and their fears.
Close to the apartment under a quarantine hour was unusual.Passing from the crazy rhythm, the bigani and the noise, the calm and the size of the buds seemed a fairy tale.When the new apartment, which had to become a clean ark, became my own in prison.At that time I thought about everything.About the past, the present and the dark future.It was just a few things.People who were like it from marriage air, in the masks stopped the thoughts.My unhappiness in this situation is a total depression.and the oppression.I wanted to imagine.At the time of writing the picture, I didn’t think about it.But somewhere on the subconscious level, it had to vibrate from me.He had to find a way.I wanted to imagine something that didn’t hide me.Get out of the usual forms.To combine this “something” with those emotions that flowed in that time.With those emotions and thoughts that remind the wind.A deadly death from inner experiences right in my head.The need was in the image of the “era” of the quarantine.In the end, there is only a roof on the roof.The consequences of sensitivity and isolation.Crickets of our disease, places of rosmitoy, smashed, but clearly sensitive on the background of others, the era of social distance.There, where nothing seems to happen and nothing will happen, there is a chaos that is all possible, along with the healthy foolishness of society.The wind that stretched me with all the power wrecked out.Gathering more and more items and things.More and more people have their thoughts, their experiences and their fears.
Lvov 
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