it seems to me that if i were to stick just to one thing, i could make it work. a painting, a photograph, a story. any one thing. but my mind leaps from idea to another as if they were rooftops on a warm summer’s night.
i am too fickle, i think. i give in to my cravings too easily. i fall in love with everything all at the same time. i dream in billions of dazzling colors and when i awake i remember not a one.