In this life we all are copies, original doesn't exist anymore. Even the allegedly great creator made us at his own image, see, only a bad copy. Ourselves are a mix of our parents DNA, an improve copy, in the best of the cases. All the greatest artists of all times got their inspiration from somewhere, from someone, from something. The paintings, the sculptures, all the forms of visual arts, a reflection of what the artist saw. Even Gea, mighty goddess of nature, iterate herself. In the end we are all bound to the Darwinian principle of unity and diversity. The human race is a mere copy of itself. Therefore original doesn't exist anymore. RIP.
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Random thoughts of a hopeless mind
SpiritualThis shorts texts were made according as the title said.
