Music was my refuge.
I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.
Source: Maya Angelou
Image: Leszek Bujnowski
Inky: Creating is a lonely. You see the words fashioning stories, hear notes trembling with music, live in worlds only you can see as your friends fashion smoke rings, demolish the whiskey and lie to appease you as you try to relate. So you spend less time among them, working to give sustenance to the things you feel, the things you hear and see. Turning vision to the written page, chasing notes onto music sheets, painting images into film and canvas and hope it shines with the same intensity that it burrowed within you; frantic, frenetic, kinetic, alive, and lonely.