There is a lack of an artist in our world, our society, today.
Civilisation ceases to be just that without the genius brush on the easel or the charismatic words on a page or even without the sound of music
In arts place, we have sickness
Sickness in the embodiment of a piece of paper with a numeric
Sickness in the hearts of men who care nothing more than to get a coffee and to beat the red light
Learn to love the red light, my friend
Learn to love the wait for it will lessen the strain that unnecessary strain of commitments in half beliefs
You must embrace the simplicity of every heartbeat the simplicity of every sunset on every dormant Sunday
It is within the calm rustle of the leaves of the trees that the whispers of truth speak longest, with words of wisdom that settle in your ear;
βStay calm, and be easy you men of restlessness, for there is nothing worth your worry, for there is nothing that can harm you, that already hasn't, for there is nothing, nothing at all.β