Who, then, is the artist?Β 

Mold me like ceramics fingertips carving into cold clay. Anything is possible. Mold me like a story  words creating the view my eyes see. Highlighting the blues  and forgetting the rays of sunlight. Mold me like an opinion an experience dictating choices, I haven't made yet. Sweet wisdom passed down from generation to generation. Mold... Continue Reading →

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the way our lives are reflected and seen

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Don't be afraid, just turn the page.