Hi guys,
Today I’ll be sharing with you a new artwork i created recently using ballpoint pen and charcoal on paper.
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Pipes between their lips, they do not smoke only tobacco — they smoke memory, they smoke patience, they smoke the laughter and scars of a world that made them unbreakable.
Their eyes are half-shut, not from weariness, but from seeing too much and still choosing to stand.
The smoke curls upward, like silent prayers, like forgotten songs that linger in the air.
These are the guardians — of hearth, of silence, of strength. Every wrinkle, every mark, is a scripture of survival.
And as the smoke drifts, their spirit remains — rooted, unshaken, eternal.
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—————- THANKS FOR STOPPING BY —————