By Annika Enkvist
A deep crimson stream oozes down the side of the flattened dead tree, seeping into the little nooks and devouring the remaining space suffocated by air. Lightly, a pale liquid splashes against the once haunting crimson. Aquamarine. A warm grey washes over the thin slice of a once mighty tree, taking the shape of a puddle. Mixing the colors together, the wooden stick with strands of hair catches a harsh lime green, dripping the once bright color on the soft fuzzy grey creating this muted, faint, offering. Thus the cycle continues, oozing, dripping, splashing, shaping, until the piece is created.