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Mastodon: AboutGet the appKeyboard shortcutsView source codev4.4.0-nightly.2025-04-01

lashman

Another daily done! :) Amber & dust.

You can grab the full-quality versions (for free) here: ko-fi.com/i/IA0A41CUWCO

ENJOY!

Pixel art of a room breathed into being from forgotten lore. A cathedral of books rises at its heart, a green monolith trimmed with the sun’s own metal, flanked by lesser shrines to bound paper. Light doesn’t hit the spines, it wells from within, each volume a captured star. A looking glass on the left wall isn’t a reflection, but a doorway to elsewhere, clouded with the breath of ages. Opposite, a still life of absence - a vase holding the ghost of flowers, a basket woven from silence, small boxes guarding secrets like teeth. The walls themselves are a language, carved with symbols that bloom like fossilized flowers, a history pressed into stone. An archway, a bone-white mouth, yawns open to a limitless, bleached expanse – a suggestion of worlds beyond counting. Underfoot, the floor is a shattered honeycomb, each hexagon a fragment of a forgotten map, stained with the rust and wine of time. Scattered across this broken geometry are the husks of journeys. The image has a CRT filter applied.
Pixel art of a room breathed into being from forgotten lore. A cathedral of books rises at its heart, a green monolith trimmed with the sun’s own metal, flanked by lesser shrines to bound paper. Light doesn’t hit the spines, it wells from within, each volume a captured star. A looking glass on the left wall isn’t a reflection, but a doorway to elsewhere, clouded with the breath of ages. Opposite, a still life of absence - a vase holding the ghost of flowers, a basket woven from silence, small boxes guarding secrets like teeth. The walls themselves are a language, carved with symbols that bloom like fossilized flowers, a history pressed into stone. An archway, a bone-white mouth, yawns open to a limitless, bleached expanse – a suggestion of worlds beyond counting. Underfoot, the floor is a shattered honeycomb, each hexagon a fragment of a forgotten map, stained with the rust and wine of time. Scattered across this broken geometry are the husks of journeys.
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