Uninspired. Can’t think of anything much to write today. You don’t usually see writers base works around that but let’s give it a shot. What compels me to express notions through art rather than a different avenue? I’m not entirely sure to be honest. Arguably there is always an external impetus of some sort, a muse. Every once and a while you see something so beautiful it demands artistic expression. Other times it is so complex it can only be expressed by art. Sometimes a muse is something that just transcends the senses. You know you are only really seeing a shadow of the muse with your senses, emotions, and cognitions. Such a thing demands to be reborn in art. Too bad I’m not a better artist. So many muses elude me, my imagination isn’t powerful enough, my mind not sharp enough to figure out a world worthy of her. My creative ability could never conjour up a beautiful enough landscape to be worthy of surrounding her. Why should these muses be condemned to my dismal world? It is better for them to be free. A better artist, or maybe a banker can build them a better world far far away from mine.

Why must we be so constrained? Why aren’t the possibilities infinite? So much happiness to pursue with no opportunities to do so.


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