The birth of an idea. The beginning of creation. An empty canvass. That is all it takes. To start a work of art. In the simplest of ways. In the most complicated of forms. It comes out. Because the mind is capacious. So it creates.
There is a magic in the air that permeates through the very soul of my existence. There is a stillness in the night that floods my senses beyond my imagination. There is a madness inside of me that overflows in everything that I create. There is a past behind me that is overcrowded with memories that drain me out.