Lately my creativity has been non existent. It comes in the most inappropriate times, where sadness lurks or darkness stagnates. But then the soul of the sun rises and beams an almighty ray and I am at peace with creativity again, eating every morsel as it enters my mind. What sparked such a thing. Dead flowers rotting in a vase. Sometimes artists are like sad clowns filled with Palma violets dipped in acid?
bangbangshe. 