I wear a humble winter overcoat, denoting a pilgrim or a prophet, lending a timeless holy quality. My face is serene, one could say understanding, sympathetic with a touch of lacrymose in the silvery eyes. Cradled by my affectionate tattoo faded hands blooms two staffs of brussel sprouts, an offering, a totem of my land, a verdant scepter.
Sprout Master Gereral.
Oil on Metal.
Feb / 2022
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