please don't die

life in technicolor

art isn't a person or a place but rather the flash of a camera, you learn. the

way cameras capture our most vulnerable moments, the inwards curl of a lip

or fingers brushing together: a white flash that begins the universe

and ends it too. you're feeling like a knife just burst your

eardrums as soon as you step out of that car as artwork

after artwork is created. an intrusive gallery. 

oil paintings are layers of flakes of 

randomly scattered colors stacked on top of each other

to create something beautiful, which is how you

feel in a photograph:

the imperfections on your face, your half-closed eyes,

the bit of hair hanging over your forehead: abstractness

collated to form a masterpiece.