Dusty Love
HAT.ARTIST
We're trained to stress. To practice and perfect. To schmooze and doodle around getting what we think we want. Forgetting all about fun. I am an wounded fighter trapped in the fake requirement of stressing about my art. Unable to cross the bridge to a better me. Today I finally printed the music. Just the sound of the machine whirring away lifted my heart and I found joy. I want to find art. Not that big boogley kind that draws all sorts of attention and clicks. I want that secret art. The quiet nook in the back of my mind where the dust bunnies symphonate and have awe-spiring creations. I want the dirt of the world to bring color back in my soul. That dusty love.
We're trained to stress. To practice and perfect. To schmooze and doodle around getting what we think we want. Forgetting all about fun. I am an wounded fighter trapped in the fake requirement of stressing about my art. Unable to cross the bridge to a better me. Today I finally printed the music. Just the sound of the machine whirring away lifted my heart and I found joy. I want to find art. Not that big boogley kind that draws all sorts of attention and clicks. I want that secret art. The quiet nook in the back of my mind where the dust bunnies symphonate and have awe-spiring creations. I want the dirt of the world to bring color back in my soul. That dusty love.
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