I suppose an artist takes the elements of his life and rearranges them and then has them perceived by others as though they were the elements of their lives.
Maybe the heart is part of the mist. And that’s all that there is or could ever exist. Maybe and maybe and maybe some more. Maybe’s the exit that I’m looking for.
I was eating in a Chinese restaurant downtown. There was a dish called Mother and Child Reunion. It’s chicken and eggs. And I said, I gotta use that one.
