When its got to the point when your not living but, biding your time for stale dreams, hopes which have floated away…your distracted by the truth. When holding a paintbrush feels foreign between your fingers, the paint fails to flow, the colour, dull. This is when its time to blink and see your new dream.
‘Occupied by petty questions, mind mundane by materials and beauty blinkered by books.’ This is how I feel.