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The Aftermath

One moment on a Friday afternoon, sun filtering through the window of the upstairs workshop. Storm clouds gather across the Black sea and the nations groan. The market is dead, inflation bites, the building trade stalled, unused equipment doesn't need repairing. Masks sit in the box, ignored obsolete, like the calculator gathering dust in the sunshine. Another smoke, another cup of tea waiting for the end of the day, praying for the strength to carry on.

Watercolour on 300gm paper



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