Words of the Constant

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Kind

Survivor

We cook to stave off death.

It has eyes, yet it never cries.

Now its eyes will never open.

The life they contain is a mystery.

The hanger is a noose for a pot.

It's for hanging the pot over the fire.

We will cook, or we will die.

Sweetness begets sweetness.

Time came for it.

Nothing escaped this plague.

Wrecked Bicycle

It's been forgotten.

Broken Carriage

Nothing more to pray for.

Dilapidated Cathedral

This was once a happy home.

Dilapidated Chimney

Its hearth no longer has a home.

Dilapidated Chimney

Time is an illusion.

Time is death's ally.

Dilapidated Clocktower

Death has been here.

Dilapidated House

It's a ghost town.

Dilapidated House

Some tragedy has struck this house.

Dilapidated House

A door that leads nowhere.

Dilapidated Door

The roof cannot protect you when death comes.

Dilapidated Roof

Let's have a peek inside...

Locked, like my heart.

It flops as its life slowly leaves its body.

Not so lively now.

It adds flavor...

It needs to be ground down before we can use it.

There is no salt, yet.

There is salt to be had.

It's for collecting salt from the pond.

Tree blood.

For collecting tree blood.

Tree Tapping Kit

We will perish before this grows back.

As bittersweet as life.

Planting seeds requires an optimism I don't possess.

Is all of life not a slaughter?

Slaughter Tools

Just a dash.

I suppose it could be edible.

We've taken all there was to take.

We ripped it from its home on the shrub.

It has a sickly beauty.

All things must end.

All that sacrifice for nothing.

Like a dagger through the heart. A tree heart.

I can harvest it now.

Its life ebbs.

They're less standoffish than their brethren.

How do you do, sir?

Swamp Pig Elder

He is practicing for the big sleep.

Swamp Pig Elder

I see no joy in this house.