My sister’s pants. A personal manifesto entitled “How To Be An Artist” to get me through. Find a confidant to complain to about how unfair the world is and how no one appreciates art. Let it allllll out. Then when you’re done, keep making your art. Call yourself whatever you are. “I’m a writer.” “I’m a painter.” Whatever you are keep saying it. Say it a lot because when someone asks you out of the blue — “What do you do?” — you might stumble if you haven’t practiced. Just like when you were doing your piano recital at the age of 8 and stumbled horribly, dreadfully. Maybe you stopped and looked at your mom for help. Because suddenly there was an audience in the room. Note this feeling will happen again as an adult over this fearful question.
They were good wings and I love observations of little/big truths.
After a 12 year feud with my next door neighbour, we have mended fences, for lack of a better metaphor!