Paintings are seldom guilty and often framed for crimes they did not commit. Some cover holes-holes in walls, holes in lives. Some make holes-in wallets, holes in hearts in negative space.
The seeds of who I am now had been planted. Fools aren’t born, I wrote in my notebook one day during ethics class. They are watered and grown like weeds by institutions such as Christianity.
I was becoming the cold, emotionally crippled monster I always wanted to be, and I wasn’t so sure I liked it. But it was too late. The metamorphosis was already well under way.
