“There mounting aloft, the bird saw the moving white mists of spring, the dust-clouds, and the living things blowing their breaths among them. It wondered whether the blue of the sky was its real color, or only the result of distance without end, and saw that the things on earth appeared the same to it …”—The Book of Chuang Tzu
Don’t look at me like that, chick. I’m trying to go about my business and BAM (they actually poked me in the eyes!)! You push your double-D cleavage all up in my face and expect me not to atleast take a gander!?
It’s the iconic picture of the college student: A night spent sitting by desklight burning the midnight oil. Here I sit, toiling away, paint spattered on my palms, wishing I hadn’t taken this art class. Or rather, wishing that I had more artistic ability.
I’m a very talented person, but my artistic prowess is somehow lacking. At the very least, I can pour my heart into what I do and hope that here communicated somehow.