Slipstate

267

Token ID · 1 tokens

3793.436575

X · 1 tokens

433.2580129

Y · 1 tokens

2025-02-22 09:54:53.624 -0600

Created · 1 tokens

From ancient wood, a visage grows, A mask emerging, nature’s prose. Is it the tree that births the face? Or mask that gives the trunk its grace? From Mayan hands and African lore, These wooden guardians came before. Carved with skill and imbued with might, They bridge the worlds of dark and light. Some say a spirit dwells within, Awakened by the craftsman’s din. In sacred rites, they come alive, Through them, the ancestors survive. A soul? Perhaps. A power? Yes.

Observation · 1 tokens

we are all here to observe. no judgement. no right or wrong. a freedom of expression without responsibility.

Response 1 · 1 tokens

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gqk7DocjQ3w

Response 2 · 1 tokens

"There is no art without contemplation." Robert Henri

Response 3 · 1 tokens