Astanael

Dream visitor

Last night I had a dream. Not a pleasant one.
We were walking along the corridors of a cyclopean city, made from steel and white concrete. The impossible architecture of the place were almost organic, living. We were searching for corpses. In order to bypass the security systems, we had to wear at all time skin masks made with the faces of the deceased inhabitants. That’s why we were searching corpses. The previous inhabitants were all dead. They were only human in appearance, and the skin was acid, slowly melting the flesh of our faces underneath, blurring our features

***

La nuit dernière j’ai eu un rêve. Ou un cauchemar.
Nous marchions le long des corridors d’une cité cyclopéenne, faite de métal et de béton blanc aseptisé. L’impossible architecture de ces lieux leur donnait un coté organique, presque vivant. Afin de tromper les systèmes de sécurité, nous étions forcés de porter en permanence des masques de peau, réalisés à partir des visages des anciens habitants. C’est pourquoi nous cherchions des corps. Les précédents occupants étaient tous morts. Ils n’étaient humains qu’en apparence, et leur peau acide faisait peu à peu fondre la chair de nos visages dessous, effaçant nos traits.

Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine sur carnet A6