I am an admitted music addict, and no, I will never get into rehab-even if it means death. I often wonder why I need these queer frquencies for survival while some happier souls need just food, water and oxygen.
Nothing excites me more than the sight of colour filling up empty canvas. My laughter, boredom, tears, calmness, anger and fear, all dissolve into linseed oil.
Scattered thoughts that refrain from clarity often haunt my head. They appear like bits of a jigsaw puzzle but refuse to fit into each other. What's worse-when I write them down, they become meaningless! But I still try.