There is no time

There is no time to draw, to think, to breathe.
Not that I can breathe anyway because I am sick.
I want to paint with watercolors now more than ever. Art and drawing are my drugs. Who needs things to enhance what my eyes see already? It's already all curvy upside down topsy turvy patterned rich colorful nonsense.
I want to paint, but alas, that is not to meant to be.
I am awaiting for my Peek Pronto so that all of this muddled up stuff (think A Passage to India) can go away. If everyone could just communicate their insecurities, would we all understand and accept each other? Or would we be too bull-headed to understand what is going on?

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