bigfoot
i don't really have much to say for the time being, but i know that statement is going to collapse on its own once i find this voice again with a mindless rabble. do you have a voice screaming inside of you, but when it somehow finds its way out of your system, it's just a pale representation of the initial anguish. i think artists are wonderful creatures, when they are able to honestly evoke their own emotions into a canvas. and you really feel as if the artist has taken something out of himself and put it on a plate served for all to consume. it's such a tragedy though, because there's always less and less to go around. part of you becomes your commodity, and if you don't find something to replace the lost, you might just lose yourself.
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