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bupaje

Burt
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Literature

Solitary Sentinel

I often feel like a radio caught between stations, or perhaps a ham radio operator living deep in the vast white waste of Antarctica. A solitary sentinel. I can hear what everyone else hears. Almost. But only the outer fringes. I'm buried in a howling storm. Hood and gloves on, even in my shelter. I hear the overlap of thousands of channels. Many in strange languages with skipped words. Loud and whisper thin. Fast and slow rhythmed, with ululating tones, pings and beeps. I sense the shape of them. Of the words. Of the world. I understand much of its mystery. I press the talk button and try to call out. To communicate. My antenna is broken

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64 deviations
Literature

Solitary Sentinel

I often feel like a radio caught between stations, or perhaps a ham radio operator living deep in the vast white waste of Antarctica. A solitary sentinel. I can hear what everyone else hears. Almost. But only the outer fringes. I'm buried in a howling storm. Hood and gloves on, even in my shelter. I hear the overlap of thousands of channels. Many in strange languages with skipped words. Loud and whisper thin. Fast and slow rhythmed, with ululating tones, pings and beeps. I sense the shape of them. Of the words. Of the world. I understand much of its mystery. I press the talk button and try to call out. To communicate. My antenna is broken

Featured

59 deviations
Broken Edges (brush pack)

PS Brushes

4 deviations
Weeds

PS Resources

18 deviations
Sea Turtle

Traditional

3 deviations
Literature

Solitary Sentinel

I often feel like a radio caught between stations, or perhaps a ham radio operator living deep in the vast white waste of Antarctica. A solitary sentinel. I can hear what everyone else hears. Almost. But only the outer fringes. I'm buried in a howling storm. Hood and gloves on, even in my shelter. I hear the overlap of thousands of channels. Many in strange languages with skipped words. Loud and whisper thin. Fast and slow rhythmed, with ululating tones, pings and beeps. I sense the shape of them. Of the words. Of the world. I understand much of its mystery. I press the talk button and try to call out. To communicate. My antenna is broken

Written Words

24 deviations
Literature

Light or Dark?

Do we sail in a world of dark, in wooden boat on inky sea, with feeble lanterns on the prow? Are there those whose brighter lives, place them on tiny sunny isles, or brilliant continents within, the ebon shroud? Do some less fortunate, swim instead with candles held high overhead, struggling to maintain, their dim and flickering flame? Or do we live in a world of light, each with iron kettle out of sight, filled with coals whose smokey fire we stoke with fear and sadness? And are there those who refuse to feed, the blaze and so are freed, from sooty haze to then enjoy the brilliant sky?

Hope's Journey

4 deviations
Storyboard and Thumbnail Templates

Miscellaneous

2 deviations
Canyon de Chelly

Photography

1 deviation
Forest Pool

Old

3 deviations
Untitled

Scraps

9 deviations