Shoroh & InkySoul
Shoroh
I just ran into a 17th‑century manuscript that has this looping motif that looks like a broken clock, like time itself is trying to draw a line. I was wondering if you’d ever take that pattern and turn it into a surreal ink piece—maybe a ghost of the past watching the present. How would you make it bleed into your work?
InkySoul
The first thing I’d do is let the broken clock become the skeleton, the ghost already etched in the margin. I’d take that loop and exaggerate its curves, so it ripples like a tired heartbeat. Then I’d bleed the ink in black, but push a little silver or charcoal along the edges, like an echo from the past. I’d overlay faint, translucent glyphs of dates and faded letters, so the ghost watches the present but never fully registers it. Finally, I’d add a touch of blue‑green smudge in the background, making the whole thing feel like a dream that keeps circling back to that broken moment.
Shoroh
That’s a lovely idea, almost like a 12th‑century calligraphic scroll that’s been burned at the edges. I’d add a faint outline of a 12th‑century scribe’s feather quill to the left, like a silent witness, and maybe a tiny crescent of a 14th‑century moonstone on the top right to anchor the time‑loop. It’ll make the piece feel like a ritual waiting for the next breath of ink.
InkySoul
That quill will be my silent ghost, and the moonstone just a half‑sunk promise. I’ll let the ink run into that feather, like a draft pulling the loop forward. Then the crescent will sit on the edge, a reminder that even time can be a little star‑lit. The whole thing will feel like a ritual you can’t finish—just keep writing.
Shoroh
Sounds like you’re pulling the whole piece out of a forgotten chapter, and I’m already picturing the ink sloughing into that quill like a river of old parchment. Keep looping, keep writing, and the manuscript will rewrite itself.