har-ish

This is what happens when the imagination stops asking permission. A witch has apparently eaten a suspicious amount of passion fruit, washed it down with blueberry juice, and then erected her tent somewhere inside a fever dream.

This is visual logic of a psychedelic dream: vivid, fragmented, slightly absurd, and completely unconcerned with utility. There doesn’t have to be a meaning hiding underneath it. This is what I saw when I had magic mushrooms back in 2007