Some work for Daydream

So over summer i was approached by the DayDream Network, for some work to be included in there next book, which obviously i was quite excited about.
Avue (co - owner) sent me over these word from Whereastheturningpoint and i got set on making an image!

One love

DayDream Network

THE TEXT People like a fast-food meal “I know how to get him. I’ll ring him at 2 or 3, when he’s drunk, and I’ll ask him to take me home because I’ve drunk too much or something, and then, I’ll get him.” As I walk around the bar, I grasp little things from people, a smile, a joke, a quick look, a couple of lines from a conversation. I put them together in my mind, like a puzzle, trying to get the full picture. And so I see some parts clearly, some are still missing. He is having a couple of drinks with his friends, looking cool, having fun. She’s not there. She’s minding her own business; letting the men think she’ll have sex with them and stopping 1 inch before. That’s the business, whether they make money out of it or not. The real bitch isn’t the one who makes money out of sex; but the one who enjoys the power she gets over men through it… When he gets the call, when he gets the text, he feels he’s got it. Got her. One more night. He is the king, the burger king. Quality. Customer Service. Cleaning. And a fake smile, shining on a made up, painted face, covering layer and layers of real persona. She chooses between the Double Quarter Pounder (“with cheese, please”) and the Big Mac… and, yeah, they all want the BIG Mac. The only thing that really matters. “Would you like to make your meal bigger?” He eats tuna out of the can. A man like that, a heart like that deserves a banquet. Instead, he feeds his body with chunks and leaves his heart starving. Tuna out of the can. I used to eat that, ages ago. But the can stink under the sun, the morning after. And I couldn’t keep myself alive on it for long, neither can he. So the decision was heart or body. Some smelly chunks to keep me going? Food for today, hunger for tomorrow. Who cares? I have an excuse. In the morning we can say we were too drunk and wash our hands out of responsibility… while we face the consequences. But, what if the decision is the heart? Would we even know what to choose from? Would we cook a home-made meal? “Don’t they know they can’t get away with this? Treating people like a fast-food meal.” Whereas… The Turning Point