we live in an environment whose entire population of critics and no painters to be found. where have all the story tellers gone? just when did I become so eaten up by moss and covered in a cloak of popularity? a raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear his cheeks slap together and worship the sound of his own voice. I'm so tired of the demands of this world.
people just don't blush anymore.
they no longer feel shame.
we are all algorithms these days.
why are we so obsessed with liking things?
why are they always seeking approval?
nothing ever fades into the past.
did Adam and Eve really lead us to this?