HOME | DD

Description

more images on nadavrock.com/
Explore My Store: Order Real-World Designs nadavrockprints.com/

QuotesCharles Hoskinson-When people wake up and they will wake up because they're going to ask basic questions why I can’t afford to fill my gas tank anymore. Why can't I pay my rent? Why is it my parents could own a home. Why is it my grandparents could own a home have five kids two cars and the wife stays at home and I'm married. I have an advanced degree. My wife has an advanced degree and I can't even afford rent with our combined income. What the hell is going on? I always go back to the Simpsons. The show started I think it was 1988. Homer Simpson is an uneducated blue collar worker and he owns a home with four bedrooms two cars. His wife stays at home and he can afford three kids. Think about that. That was common place in 1988. What the heck is going on? Can you have that kind of lifestyle on a blue color salary? No. That's inflation

In a land where dice roll to dictate fate,
The towering king in his golden state.
Once a promise of crowns for the meek,
Now a realm where the gold rarely speaks.

Majestic it stood, the citadel of chance,
Where dreams could spiral in an endless dance.
But the hallowed halls, now eerily silent,
Echo with queries of a life once vibrant.

"Why does the cauldron no longer boil?
Why does the soil withhold its spoil?
The hearth is cold, the table bare,
Once boundless feasts, now a meager fare."

Behemoths with eyes of hollow despair,
Gaze upon a banquet they can no longer share.
Tales of yore, a bounteous spree,
Now mere whispers of a memory.

In the grasp of tentacles, twisted and worn,
Lies the skeletal truth, painfully forlorn.
Of a time when labor birthed its reward,
And the hearth was ample for all aboard.

The titan's frown, a testament to loss,
As they ponder the chasm, a growing albatross.
"What strange spell has reversed our fortune,
Where knowledge and toil no longer proportion?"

A narrative once told of modest toil,
Where earnest sweat could prosper the soil.
That story now, an echo faint,
A frayed narrative, painted in restraint.

Behold the spectacle, eerie and grand,
Where avarice spins the dice by hand.
And in this gallery of twisted finance,
The abyss stares back with a hollow glance.

Description

more images on nadavrock.com/
Explore My Store: Order Real-World Designs nadavrockprints.com/

QuotesCharles Hoskinson-When people wake up and they will wake up because they're going to ask basic questions why I can’t afford to fill my gas tank anymore. Why can't I pay my rent? Why is it my parents could own a home. Why is it my grandparents could own a home have five kids two cars and the wife stays at home and I'm married. I have an advanced degree. My wife has an advanced degree and I can't even afford rent with our combined income. What the hell is going on? I always go back to the Simpsons. The show started I think it was 1988. Homer Simpson is an uneducated blue collar worker and he owns a home with four bedrooms two cars. His wife stays at home and he can afford three kids. Think about that. That was common place in 1988. What the heck is going on? Can you have that kind of lifestyle on a blue color salary? No. That's inflation

In a land where dice roll to dictate fate,
The towering king in his golden state.
Once a promise of crowns for the meek,
Now a realm where the gold rarely speaks.

Majestic it stood, the citadel of chance,
Where dreams could spiral in an endless dance.
But the hallowed halls, now eerily silent,
Echo with queries of a life once vibrant.

"Why does the cauldron no longer boil?
Why does the soil withhold its spoil?
The hearth is cold, the table bare,
Once boundless feasts, now a meager fare."

Behemoths with eyes of hollow despair,
Gaze upon a banquet they can no longer share.
Tales of yore, a bounteous spree,
Now mere whispers of a memory.

In the grasp of tentacles, twisted and worn,
Lies the skeletal truth, painfully forlorn.
Of a time when labor birthed its reward,
And the hearth was ample for all aboard.

The titan's frown, a testament to loss,
As they ponder the chasm, a growing albatross.
"What strange spell has reversed our fortune,
Where knowledge and toil no longer proportion?"

A narrative once told of modest toil,
Where earnest sweat could prosper the soil.
That story now, an echo faint,
A frayed narrative, painted in restraint.

Behold the spectacle, eerie and grand,
Where avarice spins the dice by hand.
And in this gallery of twisted finance,
The abyss stares back with a hollow glance.