“When we are born, we are allocated a finite number of seconds. Each tick of the clock slices off a piece of us. Tick. A possibility for joy is gone. Tock. A careless word ends one path, opens another. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Always running out of time. Yours is almost used up. You’re between seconds—lost in the infinite possibilities between tick and tock. Tick. You’re alive. Tock…. Well, it was a good life, but a short one. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick…” ~Lorien
Squirrel steals a chip.
Taurus 10 Ambient Occlusion Cubes