# (continued from: Śūnya Sparśa) --- --- FADING DESIRE ![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmPxfbPWRDZ8SaNrkCijyDfMDES8zSzBzugkHiePA9YTPk/1779128312241.jpg) Hola a todos, soy Humansleep. En esta ocasión quiero publicar mi trabajo en la comunidad Alien Art Hive. Y aquí también compartiré el proceso de trabajo, ya sea dibujo o boceto. > Here, what is missing is not the body—but the desire to return. --- --- The hallway is still there. It hasn’t changed. It hasn’t gotten better. Nor has it gotten worse. Just… stay. The walls were damp, like lungs that had forgotten how to breathe. The small cracks on their surface looked like the wrinkles of something too old to die. Inside, the silence no longer felt empty. The silence here… is heavy. In the middle of that hallway, a spirit still lingered. It was no longer restless as before. Nor was it trying to escape. Its movements were slow, almost as if it were waiting for something it didn’t even know itself. Then, as usual— that touch came. Those hands slowly embraced the frail body from all sides; each silent touch and embrace faded away whatever desire he had. Slowly. Almost politely. A hand emerged from the wall, resting against the side of his head. There was no pain. No pressure. Just a cold sensation creeping in like a mist seeping into his mind. And suddenly— something was missing. The soul didn’t immediately realize what was missing. It just felt… a little lighter. Then the other hand came. It touched her chest. Something inside—which once felt like a pulse, like the center of all sensation—was slowly fading. Not dead. Just… no longer important. One by one, the hands began to appear. Someone was holding his shoulder. Someone was touching his back. Someone was slipping into his mist-like form, as if searching for something hidden. And every touch— takes something away. Not meat. Not bone. But something even stranger. Desire. The desire to move. The desire to survive. The desire to become something. All of that was taken… in silence. Strangely, the soul did not resist. It’s not that he can’t. It’s just that he’s starting to forget… why he has to fight. Time doesn’t move in a straight line in that hallway. Sometimes it feels like it’s flying by. Sometimes it feels like it’s standing still. At some unspecified moment, the soul tried to remember something. A face. A voice. Or perhaps a purpose. But all that emerged were fragmented memories. Like a dream that was forced to end too soon. “I… used to be… what?” The question arose… then faded away again. Because another hand covered its “face.” Gently. As if to say: there’s no need. And for the first time— the soul agreed. The hallway began to change. Or perhaps… it was the soul that had changed. The walls that once felt distant now felt close. Too close. As if the space around him were slowly shrinking… or perhaps he was unconsciously expanding. Those hands no longer merely touched. They began to penetrate. Pulling something from within, like invisible, delicate threads. With every pull, the soul grew lighter. Too light. Until finally… nothing felt heavy anymore. No fear. No panic. No desire to leave. There is only one thing left: silence. In that silence… something emerges. Not a complete memory. Just a fleeting glimpse. Someone stands beneath the vast sky. Someone laughs for no apparent reason. Someone cries, but doesn’t want to be seen. It all felt… important. But why? The soul tried to grasp it. But before it could be understood—another hand reached out. And everything was gone. Vanished. As if it had never existed. And strangely… it didn’t feel sad anymore. Now, those hands have stopped taking. They’ve started doing something else. They’re shaping. Pulling the soul’s body backward. Stretching it out. Thinning it out. Like something being flattened against a surface. The soul does not resist. It doesn’t even know that this is something to be resisted. Slowly… very slowly… he blended into the wall. Not all at once. But little by little. Like fog that finally gives way to the air. And in that moment— a realization dawned on me. Unclear. Incomplete. But enough to feel. That creature of the corridor… is not one. It is many. So many. Every wall… every touch… every whisper… is a remnant of souls that were once lost as well. And now… he is one of them. Time passes again. Or maybe not. It’s hard to tell. Then—a new presence appears in the hallway. Another soul. Still restless. Still moving fast. Still has something to hold on to. And without any prompting… unconsciously… a hand emerges from the wall. That hand… belongs to him. He reaches out slowly. Touching in the same way he was once touched. Not rough. Not forceful. Just… gentle. And in that touch— there was something that almost felt like a memory. Very faint. Very distant. “Oh… so this is what it feels like…” Then it disappeared again. Because in this place… even memories don’t last long. The corridor falls silent again. As usual. As always. And those hands keep moving. Embracing. Erasing. Transforming. Until nothing is left alive. From one soul… to another. --- --- part of the steps: This work was created with ink on paper, using a pencil. Sketch: ![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmdKGijUvmykEiyvYu5b3eWsVzpbFQ5nrJEKddqock7fTh/1779128987390.jpg) Visual changes: ![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmSbT51FNoMNW1m4ZobiNegmWPMHxw9jwNzGB8okYVzXsy/1779129102436.jpg) Outline: ![](https://i.ecency.com/DQmTHbpSk6nqhB55df99z4pmfUVHiAjktHrJ3qy95dBKSDy/1779129207215.jpg) --- --- This part is the most painful phase... because all those hands are in the process of merging with the souls that are about to be sent to the next stage or universe. To Be Continued... --- This is all I can say for right now, sorry if there are wrong words or my typing is not perfect. Thank you for taking the time just to stop by and see my work, and see you in my next work. 🖐👽