I paint.
Always the same yet forever different.
The intricacies of a human being
The layers
The knots and weights
The outside silence, the interior noise.
Still, sometimes I think I don’t actually like painting itself, I like the final result.
I like to sit in front of a painting once it is finished and just stare at it,
Just that, stare.
In silence. I watch.
A mirror.
I see me and I see you
In front of me, bare truth
Intimacy.
A person,
Fragile.
A loud quietness.
In silence. I watch.