Prompt: The anthropomorphic typewriter was a curious contraption; a Frankensteinian amalgamation of man and machine. Its keys clacked feverishly under my fingers as I hunched over its metal frame, spewing forth a stream of disjointed words and phrases. Its mechanical arms thrashed and flailed like the tentacles of some monstrous creature as it devoured my thoughts and translated them into ink. The typewriter was a beast of burden, carrying the weight of my creative impulses on its cold and unfeeling shoulders. Its existence was both blessing and curse, for while it brought forth the fruits of my imagination, it was also a constant reminder of the inhumanity of my craft. The typewriter was a mirror of my own fractured psyche; a reflection of the disjointed and nonsensical nature of my art. And yet, without it, I would be lost in a sea of uncertainty, drowning in a world that I cannot comprehend.

Style: Photographic