"The moment a man questions the meaning and value of life, he is sick, since objectively neither of the two things exist; by asking this question one is simply admitting that one has an unsatisfied libido reserve caused by something else, a kind of fermentation that has led to sadness and depression."

(Sigmund Freud)

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A little illustration featuring my OC Michele.

Yeah, I admit I've a strange idea of depression.
But it is said that art is the vehicle of expression of ourselves, right?