Art is one of the persistent things that still brings me joy about life.
You are who you are — that could be tempered by who you want to be, but largely you still are who you are.
Surely there is more irony to many things in life than we have come to let ourselves acknowledge — at the very least, we seem to have lost much of our humor about it.
Why does it sometimes seem like belief is too often more of an escape mechanism than anything else?
Prior Randoms...?
