There are some things in this world which are so impenetrable that they get madly transparent at times.
You can’t put them in words,
you can’t rattle your colours to get that smoggy utopia,
you can’t strum on your grandfather’s guitar to make that into motion…
all you can do is to die a little and then come back to the silence…all you can do is sit and set fire to your mind for the viscosity of your life.
What If you find your truest self in other’s…how can you throw the bullshits of art to this grey thought?
Don’t answer this question when you want to remain silent.

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Photograph: Susan Williamson.