Lines from my journal in Paris
Paris is place you go to try and fix your heart, but get there and realize…
(Paris isn’t for fixing, it’s for feeling)
What do you think an artist is?
Using what you have to express what you need to.
(&maybe make someone else feel it too)
Ego feeling like an over ripe fruit…
poke me in the wrong spot and I bruise too easily.
lonely while looking at paintings..
but in that way that makes you feel how that artist probably felt while making the work
we need good memories to replace bad ones…
isn’t this why we make art?
Luxembourg Gardens: leisure, pleasure, laziness..
indifference or happiness.
I see why the light falls from the sky each night
I’ve had enough of day faces, too.