Release

2025
Oil on linen
31.9 x 25.6 in

Release

We hear rumbling, in the distance, hidden in the dark night, like a heavy, massive animal that has been disturbed in its deep sleep. In the meadow that quivers and trembles, the leaves whisper and look at each other with perplexity, a little anxious.

On the horizon the buzzing grows louder and we can hardly hear the rumors and murmurs of the plants anymore. The ochre earth, dotted with feverish plants, shudders gently, then more violently, accelerates the jerk by shaking its lively foliage in a frenetic rhythm. The earth's mantle palpitates and rises like a bubble, higher and higher, faster and faster, then the shaking stops, and silence returns.

We then hear an almost ridiculous "pop." "POP," and then nothing.

And then, at the very top of the mound, over there in the distance, we see the top of the outgrowth tearing itself apart with a screech. Then comes the shrill cry. And, briefly opening a hollow, glaucous eye, the peak suddenly throws out a gigantic geyser of blood.

And the night lights up with thousands of burning birds, red flashes cutting the carbon vault like so many scalpels of fire, streaking the lifeless face of the star with a multitude of scarlet scars.

The planet, relieved, exults. And continuing to vomit its entrails, the asteroid, in its greedy logorrhea, executes the humanoid brutes without any struggle. Without going into detail, he washes its surface and erases the tiniest traces and notches of his parasitic scum.

The birds, finally freed, have become masters of the world once again. They will once again be able to reign and replace the filthy beasts.

Its itch now appeased, the earth slowly closes its gaping eye, and, with a great sigh of relief, gently closes the parenthesis.

Sofigael M.