dare
I live and breathe my own creation and destruction countless times a day. This is the fate of the artist. Artistry is accepting and confronting mortality.
protector of the weak and ignorant, man of household, bearded dude, with cane. pretty sick robe, maybe farms. maybe jewish
My hands don't even stop for me. They just keep going, automatic, autonomous, self-governing. If only I could learn how to be so independent. But sadly, I would just be talking to the hand.