Thirty-three is a magic number.
11 x 3 = 33
Well, I'll start from the "beginning".* There really isn't one though.
The topmost part is the simplest; it features two second world war planes, a fly, blood, a cityscape and a spider. This part represents the subconscious part of the suburban hero/heroin. The horizon and the slow gradient of the sky along with the pattern that varies in colour are all calm and soft. But the objects in the sky are the opposite.
Next comes the smashed and dashed side. This is where thirty-three plays a vital role. The vivid imagination and the innocent condensation mix and quarrel. Nature always snatches victory from the jaws of defeat.
The silent but deadly photographer knows the magic of this number all too well. Another warplane whooshes by. Clear, crisp and crunchy comes the chlorinated water and the toothbrush and without a doubt the hero/heroin falls to a sacred place.
Pure Nature and her comrades slide and tumble into a pond. Rebbit!
No one forgets thirty-three. The world is thirty-three.
*You don't need to read this to understand it, and if you do you may not understand a thing or even worse, you might get so confused that you forget your home address and never get home.