it's not a dream...

issues gallore. but is it about the imagery or a story? perhaps, about ideas, rebellion and a hero.

where does the artist draw her inspiration from? a sundry sunday afternoon, sipping narial pani and reading calvino? or from the panderings of a passionate heart waiting to exhale?
i hear a distant voice call my name, a certain nostalgia. a fear of walking towards it.. but perhaps, it's hidden in the mysteries of the past.

the language of expression, estranged by the co-opted practice. but who does that belong to? the masses or the artist?

is the writing on the wall short, simple and sweet? me thinks not.

the servitude of creativity trapped by the destructive thirst of monopoly and power, often destroys the public. yet i dream. of big, brighter, better and more beautiful places, people and things. is it only a dream??

as anannya says, it's not a dream.