Time is burning away the essence of desire, together we run around the circle of want finding ourselves back at the starting line. I am to hold my dream in my own two hands and…
what is noise?…
Necessity is the mother of artistic invention. Without pencil paper paint and plight, what is necessary to create, a crying child with hallowed frown upon a mothers holy gown, she lacks a canvas to present,…
Seldom gate is swinging slow, beyond the path we seldom see. And should we seldom want to go, The gate swings shut to stoppeth thee. A breeze brings breathlessness to sigh, for we shall seldom…