AGAC KİRBACLİYAN𒉭𒉭𒉭𒉭𒉭

About me:

Once there was a lonely artist who lived by himself in the woods. Desiring to ease his loneliness, he saved his meager earnings and purchased a fine paintbrush crafted from the hair of a beautiful woman. The artist loved his paintbrush so much that he used it to paint the woman who had given her hair for its creation, as he imagined she must look. He was then informed what due to a terrible mix up the hair has actually come from a wild boar. The artist was inconsolable, and spent his days weeping and taking his portrait on long walks in the rain. On one of these walks he encountered an old woman who said "ahh, young man I can see the reason for your despair. Come with me." For a few pennies, she said, his treasured painting could be brought to life. The artist was overjoyed, and the spell was cast. Only then did he remember that he had only painted the woman from the waist up. The newly created half-woman screamed and wailed, clawing her way in circles around the room as blood poured from the bottom of her torso and entrails flopped around in tangles. The artist sobbed and looked to the old woman, who was examining the pennies he'd given her, unfazed. She caught his gaze, shrugged, and said "I reserve a special spell for these circumstances." She pointed to an axe mounted on the wall. The artist lifted the axe, tears streaming down his face. The half-woman continued to scream and claw. He brought the axe down. Her left arm rolled across the floor, and still she screamed and writhed. He brought it down again, separating her skull into two parts, and somehow still she screamed. Again, the axe came down. And again, and again, until she screamed no more. The artist's ears rang as he turned to the old woman and said "what is this unspeakable horror that you have brought to me? How can I ever escape what has been done here? What penny-spell can you cast to conjure good from this?" And the old woman examined the bloody mess and said "Well young man, this will make a mighty fine stew." And so they made a stew from the remains, but it was poison and they both died. Art will eventually destroy the artist.

Who I'd like to meet: