Sometimes I write
Sometimes I like to write. And sometimes I like to draw. The expression of oneself is a must, if you are to cope for anytime in this world. The stress, otherwise, would be too immense. Could that by why so many greats are casualty of their own art and self?
What is self? Why do you believe that? Would it be possible to hold other ideas? Is it possible that you are all wrong? Where did it go, the wonder, of a childhood? Do scars remain? As evidenced by. What is tomorrow? And who the hell are you?
A busy day at the hospital, with little sleep, of which I so badly need now.