Snow Fantasy; Anti-Matter Paradox - Come Down Slow

These two images are reflections of the same nightmare.

One captures the aftermath of love after it has lost its physical form. A woman lies awake in the dark beside someone who is no longer truly there. He exists as particles and stardust shaped from memory. A presence made from absence. This is how people stay with us after they are gone, not as bodies, but as weight. As energy. As something that lingers in the room long after the air should be empty.

The second image gives language to what the first one whispers.
“Don’t worry, we all will be forgotten in the end.”
The words are not meant to comfort. They consume. Black antimatter swallowing light, swallowing hope. A reminder that pain does not need to be seen to be real and love does not need permanence to destroy you.

Together, these images echo reality in infinite repetitions of suffering. Every heartbreak fractures into countless versions of itself, repeating across time, memory, and identity. The eyes carry stories the mouth was never meant to survive telling. Stories of nights where someone lies beside you, warm and familiar, yet already gone. Stories of holding onto ghosts because letting go would mean truly being alone with the universe.

This is about the endless cycle of loss. Pain does not happen once. It multiplies. It wears different faces. It enters through different doors. But it always leaves the same silence behind. Even if everything fades into nothing, the pain was real. The love was real. The breaking was real.

These images are not just art.
They are evidence that heartbreak is woven into existence itself, endless, watching, and impossible to escape.