SOPHIA SMITHWICK


Country NSW / Artist

Self isolating illustrator — pre and post quar


I am who I am.


𓅔





I stand admits eves dusk towering over an old broken farm house.
With bare feet being my only source of contact I squelch the verdant green land beneath me.
I breath in, strong until I hit my own diaphragm like I’ve never. 
Looking before me, this house holds a window, glowing from the inside like a sunset against a cold teal sky.
I think about death, and how the trees are dying quicker than ever. I think of detritus, aware of my own thoughts I think of my self awake

I rise up: not far from the astral in a post dreamt out state:
Are we the worlds fallen debris?
Are we just moon food?
Are we earth junk, like boiled candies before bed..

Is my physical form just folly.
The soul remains, does it not?

Maybe we are much too macro ~ to ever matter. In such relative form.

What did we leave...
And what came before it left... am I going. Anywhere. Where


(11/9/2020)





    

At the bottom the ocean — darkness pervades me, royal blue specs of white coral floating, surrounds the orbit of my body — light hits from the sun shining high above directly into my eyes which seem to see quite well considering the depth in which I am.

I feel a rolling motion of water, a coiling movement beneath my lower back as I float in a stationary position looking upward toward a spectrum of light glaring down at me.

I feel a pressing to the skin, a dolphin. It’s nose nuzzling, making contact. At first my stomach drops, but then I lighten. Dolphin continues to press forward and onwards, pushing my once static body upward to the shining sun. Liberated ~ I feel a surrendering to the moment and allow joy to rise. As I do, the oceanic darkness comes to a gradient working it’s way to the most pristine and aqua blue sparkling surface. My head births through to the very top of calm waters.

There standing on an isolated island made of peach and beige glossed marble is the man who is in charge of printing my art work along side my sister who is in a squatting position holding a single boiled egg.

I slide my way like seals do when they exit the sea to land to be with my younger sister.

We start to peel back the eggs shell delicately with our fingernails. We only reach the half way point until I am now awakened and pulled from the dream state into waking life.

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