Story: I don't belong here, yet I walk your empty streets, stopping from time to time to stare in wonder. It is more silent here than on the darkest of desert nights, and I have never known your kind to be silent. While it is my instinct to seize the chance to be the mistress of this place, I fear it would crumble were I to take control. In any case, what use have I for your buildings and bridges and roads? Oh, they have a beauty of sorts, but they do not cry out for my presence. It is quite obvious to me that they stoically wait for yours. It is my intention to return to the place that I call home, somewhere very different from here, where I am able to hunt and raise young, where I belong. I know not what has made you retreat from all that you have built for yourselves, but I know the only right thing is for you to return to this place that is rightfully yours. You may have suffered losses. You may be injured. I know what it is to feel pain, to be hurt. But in my world, survival is victory. So bide your time until the threat subsides, for there is great courage in quiet existence. Your moment will come, and you will be ready. London is golden, waiting. You will give it life.
Media: Acrylic and mixed media
Surface: Box canvas
Size: 16.14" x 20.08" x 0.59" (depth); 41cm x 51cm x 1.5cm (depth)
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