Hearts are addictive. Even as dust, we crave, we desire. We seek distinction, and we find safety in our sameness. All of which propels the drive to create.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell myself as I delete another file, trash a painting, or tear a sketch. There is no proof of knowledge gained by these moments stacked atop the last. The future holds the fruits of our labors delicately close but never out of sight.
Made by a human. Photography of random occuring television glitch, then digitally manipulated in the Adobe Creative Cloud ecosystem.
