A pen bled black ink, pontered in time, left write, left write, tick tack, time is ticking, building black bridges above the abyss, bridges to cover the abyss, to make a cover, over a hole, to consist you as a human walking over bridges which cover the abyss, left and right, tick tack the time is ticking, the thoughts are getting lost, lost from thoughts, but still so humane covered by your emotions. This untitled painting is a poem, ia ticking bleeding line that frees itself to find itself right back in its center. It's so beautiful, thank you.