I'm finished. Done. Through. Out of here. Finito.
You won't see my around here any more.
I'll be a monk and devote each day to my art, starting right this stormy Saturday afternoon. It brings me peace, the flow from beginning to end, Alpha to Omega, through the day and through the night capturing the beauty of nature and language in a single symbol.
But my weekday work is at best a child's doodle. Only on Friday eve can I express myself; I take pride in Saturday's canvas too
But vanity is sinful. Shamed, I practice a bare minimum for a full week, guiltily reading scripture, until Saturday again I am enlightened: my offering of my best is not pride, but a testament to my faith and diligence. The ink flows.
Wednesday and Thursday my pen is truly blessed again. I hang the saintly pair in my growing museum.
Suddenly my world goes pale. I can't hear my own heartbeat over a growing white noise. My shrine is the last vision I see but now its story torments me.
What have I become?
puzzle inspired by esoteric programming language brainf*ck
but only 2 of the 8 opcodes
increment and print
on the first day, I draw an 'A'
i drew a different letter every day but hung up only 6 of them