Material: digital illustration based on an analog drawing manually animated as a cartoon ,NFT,Print
Wojtek Stanislav (Heart J)
At the brink of insanity
They are all scum. It's an insult to me that my own parents are such weaklings. They adopt an orphan girl without any noble lineage (Asta Spades Q). Who do they want to prove something to? So now the girl is supposed to be my sister? I'm not laughing. She's not worth more than their damned mutt. Disgusting street trash. My sister Maryam (Heart 8) is too naive and too cowardly to question whether this dirty child deserves a place in the castle. With this stupid action, they have tarnished the reputation of the entire family and my future reign, insulting me as the future king. I will make sure that Asta and my parents regret making this mistake.
Yesterday, I began the first phase of my plan. I completely shaved that dirty dog Erkan (Spades 7) that Asta brought with her. Now, in the middle of winter, he will have to suffer the cold without any fur. Of course, I didn't admit that it was me. I told my parents that it must have been the maids who found fleas on him. I would love to shave Asta's fuzzy mane too, but she doesn't sleep soundly and would catch me. Why can't this brat just live with Aunt Malinka (Heart Q)? She's already lost her mind anyway. Every time I see her in her tower room on the other side of the castle at the window, I feel ashamed for her. Her illness, has completely robbed her of her beauty. Instead of full hair, she only has fuzz on her head, and then she paints her pale, pale skin with strange, bright blush. The medication makes her swell up and makes her so restless that she doesn't want to stay in her room. She's constantly dancing around the castle like a circus clown. This family, they're all driving me crazy. Pack! When I'm king, a different wind will blow here, you can count on that. I will destroy them all, along with their animals. As soon as I have taken over for a few years and the throne is mine, and everything is running in stable structures and loyalty, then I will kill them - all of them! Like unsuspecting rats, I will lure them into a room, lock them in, and then burn them all at the same time. It will look like an accident, a terrible tragedy, and there will be no witnesses left who could claim otherwise. Oh, if only I were old enough now.
A Game of Underdogs and Naked Cats.
A game everyone plays: life. Each living being draws a card. Is the story already written? Survival instincts are inherited, but knowledge and experiences remain individual. All circumstances shape life. Dirt leaves stains and stench. Weapons etch body and soul with deep scars, painting pain in a liquid form, sticky and bitter on your skin. Some are gifted with a shield of protection or wrapped in soft benevolence. Others are left with only the cold, hard ground. One has the unstoppable urge to hide, while others seek the stage, the light, and the grand performance. For some, the heart grows so large that they can hardly manage to distribute all the feelings it pumps through their veins evenly, in order not to lose consciousness. The others won't even spare a thought for the existence of a heart. Circumnavigating walls we build ourselves, ensnared in routines and drowning in processes, we live on. We smell happiness and simultaneously bite into rotten fruit. We dream of freedom and tighten our grip on objects until we can no longer walk independently. Some can fly and are fueled by envy. Some want to sleep and are envied for their determination. Everyone wants to love and confuses the path there with labor. All cards are constantly shuffled, and the game begins anew. Everything is interconnected and develops its meaning only in harmony. Everything is mad and delightful, impartial and infinite. Just as we would like it - or not?
