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Mi trovate ogni giorno
@inkfactorytattooroma
Via Gallia 19L - ROMA (Ⓜ️ San Giovanni)
0645429426 -3271706904
inkfactoryroma@gmail.com
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A grand old Neptune in the prow, Gray-hair'd, and white with touch of time, Yet strong as in his middle prime; A grizzled king, I see him now, With beard as blown by wind of seas, And wild and white as white sea-storm, Stand up, turn suddenly, look back Along the low boat's wrinkled track, Then fold his mantle round a form Broad-built as any Hercules, And so sit silently. ✨✨ Appointments: Link in Bio
Done in: @aureoroma
By @alessandro_capozzi | ”Destruction” At my side the Demon writhes forever,
Swimming around me like impalpable air;
As I breathe, he burns my lungs like fever
And fills me with an eternal guilty desire.
Knowing my love of Art, he snares my senses,
Apearing in woman's most seductive forms,
And, under the sneak's plausible pretenses,
Lips grow accustomed to his lewd love-charms.
He leads me thus, far from the sight of God,
Panting and broken with fatigue into
The wilderness of Ennui, deserted and broad,
And into my bewildered eyes he throws
Visions of festering wounds and filthy clothes,
And all Destruction's bloody retinue.
Appointments: Link in Bio
Done in @aureoroma
By @alessandro_capozzi | “I have been in love with painting ever since I became conscious of it at the age of six. I drew some pictures I thought fairly good when I was fifty, but really nothing I did before the age of seventy was of any value at all. At seventy-three I have at last caught every aspect of nature–birds, fish, animals, insects, trees, grasses, all. When I am eighty I shall have developed still further and I will really master the secrets of art at ninety. When I reach a hundred my work will be truly sublime and my final goal will be attained around the age of one hundred and ten, when every line and dot I draw will be imbued with life.”
from Hokusai’s ‘The Art Crazy Old Man.
Hokusai Katsushika
Appointments: Link in Bio
Done in @aureoroma
“Vanished Fate” ✨
Greed and sin and fatigue possess our flesh,
we wear the richest quartz
to wash away our stains.
Like a pet we feel the guilt,
our tears lull us to remorse.
We sink into a pillow of a million writhing worms,
too stubborn to move,
Each day our Free mind will **** and kiss vapour
We’re discontent to show our secret streams of captive cries
Into the stinking pit of Man’s Will, & turn back to our woeful design,
each day we offer vows of faith and
charms to each other,
but turn to filth to flow into our lungs,
A tormented art,
A banal fate,
As we deconstruct passion,
A solitary riot,
A shrivelled nerve,
A flask,
A phantom,
A Madonna skull.
Appointments: Link in Bio
Done in @aureoroma
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