If creativity is a conversation and life is a season.
There’s no time to be dumbstruck for it’s a gift to be breathing.
We wear the books that we’re reading.
Some pages get dog-eared because we’re so consumed by our contents.
If a fore word gives direction you’ll be able to cut through the treason.
If the grass is always greener, are we green-eyed, hungry or ambitious?
Things don’t always add up when we get the vision.
The glass is never half or half when we find a source and leave the tap dripping.
Sometimes I wonder…
If wisdom is knowledge, is food for thought, is logic the knife and the fork?
Do we consume pain and pleasure with our hands or heart?
If life is an art and we are a creation, are we, as a translation of a recurring translation, to consider that we are life imitating art, what some call inspiration?
If that is the case we are painters, life drawing.
Our collages are collisions of the crass, the clean, the common and the convenient.
When wonder is water, why do some stop drinking?
When our palette dries we do.