So much so, in fact, that the sun towering above me watches as my rapid production fans a flickering flame. Some days I run on empty, but Obsession could care less. Funny that I still follow her lead even though I know how her tainted hands wreck everything. But someday I'll ditch her. See, art isn't just a lovely corpse for which will be rotted postmortem.
Art is a child.
A renaissance with every brush stroke sealed in paint. It is the fiber of who we are, who we hope to be, and what we wish to leave as a legacy. It is a body, mind, and soul. A far away place that becomes lit with tangibility. It is deliverance.