Genur.art

They were sitting in a blue room bathed in the light of unknown stars, and under the distant rumble of the raging desert, Pink was talking. Not only about the civilization of machines. About a tribe of insects that for thousands of years accumulated inexhaustible reserves of food that they did not need, and became slaves to their own blind greed. About the race that made art an object of religious worship. The eavesdropping stations manned by the garrisons of one galactic empire, which has long been forgotten by everyone except the garrisons themselves. About the fantastically complex sexual traditions of one race, which directed almost all efforts to the permission of reproduction. About barren, barren planets that have never known life. And about other planets, where, like in flasks and retorts of an alchemist, chemical reactions took place that the mind could not even understand, but even imagine, and where, as a result of these chemical reactions, shaky, ephemeral life arose, only to disappear into oblivion again in a split second., .. (Depth of field), low saturation, detail. mythp0rt, Stylish, charismatic, SCI_FACTOR_CORE