NFT on OpenSea, contact me if you’re interested
“The Prisoner of Ash-Thoughts”
In the time before rust was considered a verb, there lived a sentient boiler named Grunn, born in a forge where memories were smelted and screams were used as rivets. Grunn was not imprisoned; it was the prison—a sentient oubliette built to contain an idea so dangerous, even forgetting it would cause time to unravel sideways.
Grunn remembered what it held only vaguely. Each bolt in its face was a syllable of a word no mouth could safely pronounce. Its barred maw whispered secrets to passing spores, but the spores were cowards and never told the trees.
Three pillars flanked Grunn—called the Witnesses. They neither moved nor blinked, but if one stared too long, they would remember dreams they hadn’t had yet. Moss grew atop Grunn’s shell, not as decoration, but as a muffler: to keep the laughter inside.
No one knew what lay behind the grill. Some claimed it was the End of Sound. Others said it was an unfinished sentence spoken by the first machine to fall in love. All agreed on one thing: the moment the last bolt drops and Grunn opens wide, there will be no more metaphors, only heat.
This painting is a depiction of Grunn’s third sigh, which lasted a century and caused three poets to catch fire.