"It Was Dark Still When I Came"

I thought to share my latest works, all fresh from the last few days which may seem more of a concept at the moment, but hopefully will be developed and be a part of an intensive creative process.
These little colorful bits of illustrations, came to mind on one of those nights I just can't put my eyes to sleep (they have lives of their own, I tell you). And as I made it into a habit of my lately, I wandered to my wide open window across the room, settled myself with a pink wool blanket and leaned backwards so I could only see the dark black sky, weaved with thousands of bright stars, circling the moon with its blinding glow. I don't recall ever seeing the moon (which I know very well, since it looks at me from above every night) THIS bright, hanging in blackness like a lighting bulb, a white clear spot that slashed the dark sky.
Its shimmering light, after staring it for a while, actually hurt my eyes and I had to look away, divert my look as if I was staring at the shining sun.

Now as for the 'Eyes concept' I've always been obsessed with, seems to produce endless metaphors, shapeless ideas and thoughts about this quirky glossy organ and romantic-like shaped. It's kept well behind thick eyelashes, and its evasive white looks as slippery and fragile as an egg.
I had a vision of thousands of tiny googly eyes, floating in air, like small shivery balls in bold colors, almost like colorful candies made out of glass.

We tend to differentiate our eyes from the rest of our tangible body. Some refer to them as the 'window to our soul', a well known phrase I might interpret differently, by comparing our eyes physically to windows, and neglect the metaphor for a while. A window, a still object that functions only as a barrier between the outside world and our mind. In vain, we try to identify our surrounding through our eyes, through thick glass windows.

After that night I rested beneath the beautiful sky I realized we only assume we're seeing through our eyes. But we're blind in a world we don't really own. Do we really think we're able to capture this abstract world and its visual views? The sky, the shimmering stars? The moon wasn't itself that night and I had to look away. At that moment my eyes began to deform into hollow eggshells. They did no longer project the outside world, but turned into small, colorful aesthetic still balls made out of glass.