THIRTYTHREETWENTYTWO by Patrick Vogel

In the hidden corners of my mind Thirtythreetwentytwo, countless tiny lights flicker, as restless as a melody in my chest. Bound by unseen threads, they sway in rhythm, dancing like my dreams on the canvas of the universe. As an invisible force appears, my creation blooms, revealing its secret hues. From the cocoon of darkness, they explode into life, painting the void with bold strokes of colourful gradients. In their dance, I see the spirit of my son, a joyous sprite in ceaseless motion. Each light echoes his vibrant energy, his playful curiosity. Their rhythm is an echo of his laughter, their dance a reflection of his steps, carefree and full of wonder. My space, my Thirtythreetwentytwo, is a silent symphony, a vibrant ballet, a universe singing its verses in colours and motion. Like my son, it's always in motion, whispering the poetry of life with each flicker and sway. It's a tribute to the joy of endless movement, the beauty of transformation, the wonder of watching my son grow a poetic dance of existence woven into the fabric of my art.

And for the less poetic people who don’t give a single fuck about all these words: This is for my son. For making me smile every second. For being the coolest boy on the block. 3322.