He Gave Me His Shoulders, His Words Were Very Nice.

I don't have my glasses or anything on so bear with me :)

I started drawing again. There's something so discreet yet so straightforward about the concept of visual art and what it does for the soul. A person can be extraordinarily articulate, but words are locked up in the cages of language, culture, misinterpretation, restrictions and consequences; words can only travel certain distances. The way I see it, as opposed to pictures "painting a thousand words," pictures paint a single, unified vision.

It's nearly impossible for me to verbally express the emotions and situations that have knocked on my door recently. There's a feeling, some sort of creature, living inside of me that's been pounding on the walls of my chest, dying to jump out and yell and scream and express all that it is. That creature made its way onto the pages of my sketch book. :P