john | Aug. 30, 2020, 4:56 a.m.
It was said that Frank Sinatra's songs was like hearing a four minute movie. I guess that's what I strive for when I write this, difficult as it may be to believe. Not for you, for me.
I mean after all, art, how ever you define it, is an infinite pursuit. There is a certain beauty to the brokenness of it all. It's relaxing. A grin forms as I write that.
There is a struggle going, I can feel it. Even as I write this I know it is futile to attempt. The exhale from the sign runs down my body to my hands, it felt cold. It's as if I have to discover. what I don't know.
The emptiness, feels not so empty. It's smooth, but has no depth. Soft and comfortable. Maybe even a bit warm.
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