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by Goliath
“In this raw and poignant scene, the child subject hangs from a laundry line, his small form dangling like a garment left to dry. His body sags, powerless and exposed, as his heart pours forth—a cascade of liquid emotion pooling beneath him. The line cuts sharply across the frame, a symbol of entrapment and the cyclical nature of his struggle.
The title, "I Don’t Regret My Relapse..", carries a haunting duality—both defiance and confession. The child feels washed over by regret and denial, yet there is a quiet acceptance in his vulnerability. His heart, though pouring, still beats, still feels, still endures.
This piece captures the fragility of the human spirit, suspended between struggle and healing. It is a reminder that even in our most powerless moments, there is strength in enduring, in feeling, and in refusing to regret the parts of ourselves that are still learning, still human.”
by Goliath
“In this raw and poignant scene, the child subject hangs from a laundry line, his small form dangling like a garment left to dry. His body sags, powerless and exposed, as his heart pours forth—a cascade of liquid emotion pooling beneath him. The line cuts sharply across the frame, a symbol of entrapment and the cyclical nature of his struggle.
The title, "I Don’t Regret My Relapse..", carries a haunting duality—both defiance and confession. The child feels washed over by regret and denial, yet there is a quiet acceptance in his vulnerability. His heart, though pouring, still beats, still feels, still endures.
This piece captures the fragility of the human spirit, suspended between struggle and healing. It is a reminder that even in our most powerless moments, there is strength in enduring, in feeling, and in refusing to regret the parts of ourselves that are still learning, still human.”