It started out as blank canvas, bare, exposed, and disenchanted.
As stroke and stroke of color flashed across it, it began to gather depth.
Wisps and slashes of the brush covered the fabric.
It was brought into a new existence, a new opportunity; It was painted.
I sometimes wonder what it is like to look out from the other side of the limousine, to be on the inside looking out. I wonder how big the hiatus between us is, from a life of celebrity to a life of seeming normalcy.
Writing is a montage of thought, where you take the images from your head and propel them into reality.
It’s good to remember the good ol days to keep you going. But the past is a springboard, not a hammock.
Just like in the Lion King…”Remember, Simba, Remember…”