These days its hard to differentiate between all that is indecent and all that is subordinate of our crimes of creativity across the world, sometimes i don't even realize that its all just a flux at the end. Replicas spill the hallways and simplistic notions like what I'm going to create today becomes another war between our own personal deadlines.
But to what?
why does this flux at the end show us that our journey was that of something truly transcendental. That we actually made an impact, and there was no font to express it.
Creation is closest thing to any God I've ever had the chance to witness. Meandering down some hollow path comes a little bit more into picture. So i wake up each time and begin to make, something.
Pay the bills, show the truth, eat the food, our goals of what we "
need" fall away under that creative stratosphere.
Sadly, i wish i could join you, but as you see there's all this progress clogging up my life and the only way to fix it is to show it on some art-mottled, thing. Behold the caressed cursed laying to slither on our brains for eternity. Remind us that we must create, or all is lost. Like it mattered anyway.
And then life: jobs, family, social astringents, that kind of life. The static on the TV blurs forever and we begin to lose the sign. Where is the middle ground, forgo my eyes so i can see true nothing?
In the modern age century, we humans breathe deep and carry death like a punchline to a long joke. But it makes something else drip out from between the gutted cracks and reveal a hidden truth.
A truth that which will change the whole entirety of our imagination.
>>>>>Phase 1 complete