I’m watching a movie on Netflix about art that kills people. The movies intrigue came from its similar feel to a movie about mirrors and reflections killing their owners. My heart is breaking as I watch it.
There is a whole art world with gallery owners and critics. Sorrow is felt as a remember how glorious it felt to work oil paints into an image. I haven’t been able to since high school and I can’t help but long for it again.
Writing will bring me to that feeling of zen, of this I am certain. I am not certain how to maintain the flow while balancing life. #IShouldBeWriting