I didn't paint in almost a year now...I felt stuck for some reason, even though I bought
myself brushes, oil paints: the idea of having to face myself, to get undressed in front of
a white canvas has been the most terrifying
ever..I felt a lack of inspiration or I was just too
deaf to hear my inner voice? Normally I paint when my hands can't stay still and I am feeling exicted about something or someone, or when the sense of anguish consumes me..
I don't know which feeling has prevailed yet but today after all this time I held a brush in my hands again..what inspired me was how greedy people can be, when money or houses
are on the table they just go blind, forgetting that money doesn't buy everything....
what do you have left when you lose the unconditional love and affection of those
whose blood in the veins is the same as yours?
Ladies and Gentlemen this is "Family Affair"
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