Sometimes we simply don't have the words to explain ourselves.
Vast and unknown, the unconscious mind writes poetry if it's left alone.
I had a vision of this short-haired girl in the middle of the night, jumped off the bed and quickly sketched it not to forget.
"The past lingers like a ghost, haunting the present." It's tiring to deal with unwavering thoughts, troubling the mind, shuffling around.
The girl with torn wings stands for all the people who lost their ability to fly. It may be an immobilized innocent child, or an elder with ceased hope and joys, counting down hours and wishing to be gone.
From notes:
It was an ordinary foggy morning but for me, fevered and half-dreaming, everything seemed pink.
From notes:
...lost in the vastness of space and immensity of time, she breaks down and hugs the gleaming pillar seeking for warmth. Finding solace in this only source of light reminds her of a mother's arms.
A child's heart is imperfect, vulnerable, and selfish, guided by emotion rather than reason. As much as we love our inner child's playful spirit, we might overlook the tricks he sometimes plays upon us.
From notes:
Let all the mistakes be an indelible guide to better actions, better decisions, better mindset. They hurt, but they will heal. I promise, I will try to be better this year, and even better in the years that follow.
Take on a stupid role in this timeworn theatre just for one minute.
Forget, perform, fantasize just for one minute.
Let the silent fish be the only judges for this sole minute.
From dictionary:
...an unfortunate, a loser (literally: actor (artist) of the burned-out theatre).
But a burnt-out theatre is not the end for the actor. I just hope the flames never ever devour his ticket to a new world of plays and fantasies.
When minds seek shelter from the heat and heaviness of home, we follow the colours of railway tracks, the veins of trees, the song of the sea~
We wander and feel and wonder how soft our universe actually is.
