An avalanche of words, dreams, thoughts patiently explained, one's own ideas echoed, insights, banality, stupidity, screenfuls of words; if once were enough we would stop them. Breathe. Possibly sing. Move. Possibly dance.
Art is practical, not decoration but what we should do. Do this in memory of your soul. Artists think too; their words are the same. The doers do so we can be. Abundance would let us give more of our lives to art, words-and-music, pictures, imagination pure in mind and body. Let 20% work so 80% can bliss out on art ecstasy. Work is not who but when in your life it is time to do the chores. Now. It won't take long.
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