They said that when life became a hectic storm of chaos, art was the first to get blown away with the wind.
I realized at that moment that I would have to be the exception to this. I would have to make time to create beauty in the world with my hands and with my mind. I would have to transform everything that made me distressed into inspiration. I realized that I, too, would have to retain the words directed towards me– even if in an abstract way– and take them to heart. I would have to allow my own heart to be exposed to the world and everyone in it.
Because this isn’t just about being a creative soul. This is about running against the wind, and becoming someone those legends who became separated from art at some point would admire.