This is just a ruff draft, unpolished and un-edited, raw if you will. I took an intro to art history course recently and the pioneers of generations lost have taught me about myself. I see their works and I feel, I lavish their accomplishment, I understand their motives, I live better knowing some small text book version of their craft. I also discovered my own art, my own ability and its limitations. I rediscovered my fickleness my inability to commit was laid barren before lives dedicated to perfection. I haven't written in a while because I was busy living, wanted to create grand stories and come back and report them to you. So you would be proud of me, so I could impress you and keep you coming back. Time never stopped, gave me no reprieve just kept moving like a story unfinished, told by a stranger in transit. I do the best that I can the best way that I know how.
Ps reading: Zinn's A peoples history of the United States and fighting to get through it I never finished the picture of Dorian and grey and I am sorry.
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