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About Varied / Hobbyist Member Filipe VasconcelosMale/Brazil Recent Activity
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His name was Blake Baker, a good man, an Officer of the law.
He was born some thirty years ago, in some whorehouse down the Harbor Street, his mother one of the ladies, his father a sailor. Baker never met his mother after his first day.
Raised in an orphanage, more of a dormitory for the Robber Baron's present and future little workers.
He  saw the Baron betraying his wife, the director laid down on her table. They saw him. Blake, the unfortunate, wrong place, wrong time, he didn't mean to pry.
The Baron was never liked, yet, nobody would rise against him.
"He's never gonna let us go!" they shout, the few of the kids who didn't lose their limbs. Blake was just passing by, he didn't mean to... Baker, the nosy.

All his life, Blake had been too much in the wrong places, at the exact wrong times. Yet, he was a good man. Frightened by his past yes, but a good man.
At 16, Blake Baker enlisted in the Holy Imperial Army. Baker, Officer.
Like all good man, he tried to run away from his "luck", never to stand up to what is right, until his last moment.

We had no choice, the one moment in his life when he chose not to run away, the moment he died. Baker, the good Officer.
No, he was never a "Smart man", just a good man.
A common man, with love and passion, wanting to lead a normal life, until the war came. Blake, the Dreamer.

A soldier wanting to live a normal life... Impossible dream? No. He was camped in a little town down south, a warm town, with good people.
"That's the problem with people", he thought in his last insightful moments, they are all good.
His last words were "You are a good man, Sam. I know."
I am not so sure I am, Mr. Baker. I betrayed the empire for my dreams, the dream of freedom, the same one you had when you were a child.

I never knew nearly as much of your story as I should. I'm Sorry it has been that way.
I write this letter not for you, but for me. We both know... You are now but a memory of a good man who lived in my home during the war.

Your murderer, Samuel Cooper.
Obituary, Confession, Officer Baker.
It is not neary as good as I meant it to be. The Idea has gone away just as fast as it came, sadly.
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Chaos of My Mind by weroni
I'm really tough with critiques, so I take full responsability for any offensive thing I may say. (Tell me if I do.) (And I have the unintentional habit of being confusing.)

It is an Unusual representation of 'Chaos', an Orderly Chaos in a way.
Although unusual, it's far from original in relation to the 'theme'. Yet, it's playful, almost refreshing, seems like it's also unusual in its originility. So, it may deserve more credit than I give.

Compared to your other works, this one seem a little flat, less alive, which I thought it was a marking characteristic (maybe unintentional) of your works.

It is impacting in some ways, like every 'chaos' it evokes possibilities. If I look at it I see ornaments, worlds, even pure worlds and spaces, a restaurant, a memorial stone, engraved.

To sum it up, it's pretty good as a playful piece. And differs from your usual... style.

Oh, Estephania, I wonder how long I have been away. Was it long?

I have these thoughts while walking to you, remembering the good times, far  before the mess started.

You stand in front of me, smiling. After all this time, there is not much more face to do anything else.

Well then, Good bye.

I don't think I'm in august.
Attempt at Flash Fiction Suggested by :iconbansini: Bansini

Just as trippy as the Acrylic Paint attempt I did just now.
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FilipePVasconcelos
Filipe Vasconcelos
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Brazil
I'm that guy who buys 72 pencils at once and didn't use more than 20 in 5 years. >;D
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:iconsandsandra:
sandsandra Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014
gracias por el watch!
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