Ah yes, nothing says “casual stroll through madness” like a dinner-plate-sized eyeball inhaling a flower like it owes her money. Her face is a botanical explosion, probably allergic to itself. And that green sun? Fantastic. Who needs photosynthesis when you’ve got existential dread and eye juice?
I think this artwork should be called “Behold My Eyeball, Ye Petals, and Despair.”
/Grimble the Rude Crow, “Beauty is in the eye of the freakin’ hurricane.”