Art for the mind and soul
The new painting is taking some time. It's hard for me to concentrate. Thoughts of that time have been coming into my mind. I had no real reason to think on it at that time, but now there is so much time to.
I believe I'm in the market for a new roommate or two. With everyone gone the apartment feels so empty and large. Alexander and Toulouse have been following me around all the time. I managed to drop a generous amount of my silver onto Alexander the other day. Rose, I fear your painting will be late. It's simply not coming to me. I promise it'll be done though.
I have so much time on my hands recently. Perhaps I will do as Clow suggested and open an art gallery. There is something I need to know however. Who within the City paints, sketches, what have you? The medium really doesn't matter. What matters most is the art. Although. Please refrain from human or other being innards or shells. I can only imagine that they would leave a disturbing smell after a fashion.
[private]
I haven't thought of that day for quite some time. I was, rather viscous. Perhaps to be bound would have been a fitting state. To be left with contemplation of my final moments actions.
I killed her. A living being and I killed her.
The dreams have been coming. Nothing horrid. Simply dreams as vivid as if they were real actions. Some are real actions while others only things that have been thought of before.
I wonder. Should I paint what I see? I wonder if that's what my inability is trying to tell me.
Something a bit darker wouldn't be unwanted. It would be rather invigorating.
I believe I'm in the market for a new roommate or two. With everyone gone the apartment feels so empty and large. Alexander and Toulouse have been following me around all the time. I managed to drop a generous amount of my silver onto Alexander the other day. Rose, I fear your painting will be late. It's simply not coming to me. I promise it'll be done though.
I have so much time on my hands recently. Perhaps I will do as Clow suggested and open an art gallery. There is something I need to know however. Who within the City paints, sketches, what have you? The medium really doesn't matter. What matters most is the art. Although. Please refrain from human or other being innards or shells. I can only imagine that they would leave a disturbing smell after a fashion.
[private]
I haven't thought of that day for quite some time. I was, rather viscous. Perhaps to be bound would have been a fitting state. To be left with contemplation of my final moments actions.
I killed her. A living being and I killed her.
The dreams have been coming. Nothing horrid. Simply dreams as vivid as if they were real actions. Some are real actions while others only things that have been thought of before.
I wonder. Should I paint what I see? I wonder if that's what my inability is trying to tell me.
Something a bit darker wouldn't be unwanted. It would be rather invigorating.