Hold Your Breath #194

Prompt: Theoretical wasteland with broken formula trees, probability storms raging across multiple dimensions. Creative Process: The trees stood like ancient sentinels, caught in that liminal space between existence and void. their spindly forms reminded me of those old photographs from the dust bowl era, where nature itself seemed to be conducting a slow funeral march. i painted this after discovering documents about the great storm of 1987 that devastated the english countryside, when even the oldest trees bowed to chaos. there was something beautiful about their defiance, like neurons firing their last desperate signals into the void..