The result of that obsession was reflected in how I dictated the world of my protagonist. His name is Albert and from time to time his mind is exposed to very Kafkaesque vivid abnormal dreams (talk about heavy doses of Prozac ). I hope you enjoy it.
‘Albert,’ whispered the Little Girl. He was in his dormitory at Bridgeway. ‘Albert…come find me.’ He flung the door open and hurried down the stairs. There were no orphans, at least, their physical forms were not there. What Albert could see was soaring shadows on walls, staring at him. ‘Hurry up.’ Ignoring the puzzled shadows he ran to the main entrance, but he was late; the fancy vehicle carrying the Little Girl has just disappeared. In reality, in dream, the half-blooded will always win. He looked at the sun. It was eclipsed, grey, somber. ‘There’s still time…before it’s too late,’ the whisper came from within him, indistinct, echoing in his ears, but had a sense of direction. Following the whisper, he came across shades of many shapes: prancing big-headed children reflected on the street ponds, solitary headless grown-ups floating along the walls, deformed shadow-mannequins behind white veils disp
The artworks below are one of many which inspired me. Thank you!