Page “17”
Berlin's Drawing's Pad And 2020
Colored pencil, ink and gouache on paper
8.5 x 11.7 inches (11 x 14 inches framed)
Notebook- envelope my hand actually I don’t know, with details. The size is like the size of your hand. I just got an envelope and opened it today and found my cousin keeps bees and grows fruits. So he can get a farm. I just got two faces and opened them today and I just found papers and saw the ink everywhere instead of honey.
Today I’ve sculpted new statue in the farm and planted new tree. You will not see the face only the back of back of that statue. You will not see the face. You will not see me. “Portrait execution” You will not see the farm. You will not see the paper.
The ink is spreading on my hair or umm on the paper or maybe my pillow I don’t know. You know the size. Ok so today I rode on my cousin's back, laughing until the heaviness of my body weighed his to the floor. At the time I was with him on their large farm that he always dreamed of visiting. Frightened, he fled from me into his grandfather's large guest room which was infested with spiders. Spiderwebs covered every corner of the house and framed his grandfather’s forehead. Have a nice day my friends. This is just a drawing stuck in my hair or hair stuck in my paper.
Umm you know I still have enough papers and enough ink in my pen that I bought them from Berlin. This drawing by the tree that I planted last papers ago. This is my new neighbor asked the tree/me to make a drawing for her, she’s always return with the dust as her companion, covering her head and hands. @backstoryache
Have moved to a new place to a new paper, the paper just moved to new bed. The bed moved to new notebook. Every room in it did not know how to present itself to others as a function and defined space, as a kitchen or a bedroom or a guest room, only the stairs were easy to identify.
Um the sun in your sky right after a subcutaneous injection, as seen through my window. The grass of the table was flooded with sweat. I’m happy that I still have enough papers in my pen and enough ink to thank you Karim Adduchi for the table, two chairs, roll of paper and easel. The shadow has a beautiful table. @karimadduchi
Hi, nothing important,um my hand hurt a lot, one of my strands alleviated that pain. Umm this is my new jumpsuit was stuck in my hair. This drawing was stuck in my hair but someone put his hands in my chest and made an opening from my throat to my stomach. He wore me as a jumpsuit. He walked around the farm wearing my body; I cursed him but he did not care. Have a lovely weekend.
Uf I thought this is was the last paper. Today while the canvas under hypnosis was able to give me more paper.
Berlin’s drawing pad, I was inside half paper of land surrounded by fake houses from three directions. I leaned on one of the papers of this land, put my ink in my embrace. Um your sky is a histopathologic finding of myocardial infarction “heart attack”
Nothing important just new sealed bag, to be opened by authorized personnel only. Open it later. Medium strands on paper. Size: The same size of your envelope. Year...
Berlin’s drawing pad, eh the sky is a natural hairlines, this paper and forest growing from the lawyer’s head that spurred the paper of my plastic bag. His countenance not mine, and you can see the absence of muscle. There isn’t an atom of my work in it.
Today’s sunset. Today’s sketch. This paper was implemented today by ‘the frontally’. From Berlin’s drawing pad.
Berlin’s drawing pad, another heart attack. One of these days, I tried to come into the form of a butterfly or a cat or a dove or a paper. I was looking forward to a plastic bag but only found darkness or scenarios where I did not exist. I used the dove for only forty minutes; these forty minutes were forty years. I consumed the dove’s entire life, its happiness, destroyed its youth, and brought it into old age. Afterwards, I left it as a corpse at my family's farm.
Berlin’s drawing pad, um this is the last paper. No more ink. Your sky is people are staring at you. Today I excavated the grave. I took the strands, papers, my plant, my house, ink and everything to my room. The pen says: All the residents in the farm gathered around his paper demanding that he return us to the grave. He responded to neither his mother nor his pen who begged him. He carried us and put everything in between carpets and mattress as if I was banknote. As a drawing pad I opened both my papers. My left paper looked as if it was irritated inside with ink.. Soon i will upload the complete series to my website. Enjoy your a great day. Sorry about my English, English: sorry about Ali. Haha