Blessed and cursed-that's my true condition.I dare not even call myself a "writer",but a person under the bitter and ecstatic spell of words.I'm their slave,they are my master.How it came to this?Only God knows and the Devil conspires.
I had a revelation in the bathtub today: art lies in atoms.I have Van Gogh at the core of my orchid's fleshy leaves.Marilyn Monroe between my ivory and crimson sheets.F.Scott Fitzgerald painted on my fingers and rings and dirty eyelashes.So many names,so many unknown or lost identities.That's why everything is an inspiration,that' why beauty never dies.It's because we can never truly escape creation in this world.
...then,how can I?How can I compete with this perfect creature that lacks a body,but exhales only pure essence and sparkle?I will forever be in the shadow cast by the particle of life.Insufficient and hungry for something I can't have.
Sometimes,I don't believe in God.But I believe in art.Which sometimes means the same thing.Sometimes...
My head only bears a watery crown and my soul is crumbling.I look for salvation in everything.Blessed and cursed.