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Is that the cost of inspiration, then? You steal from the artist an idea, a thought, a penny, in the market square and say it's borrowed? Is that the price you pay for a good deed not unpunished; the law of Karma nullified; not returned by another fair and square - stolen, to be returned… Continue reading Market Square
You chose the balmy ink to delineate, a dismal, (formerly unevoked ) cry; then appalled at the sketchy truth, did to bits separate, the frail parchment with fingers spry. What started in an inspired hour, proved taxing and intricate to upkeep; colours and lines bore uncanny power, to disrupt, to reveal... Cowed all the while… Continue reading THE REMNANTS
NOT MYSELF TODAY
My fingers don’t feel like themselves today - they don’t hold my pen as they are wont to; they don’t scrape words out of ink, on the parchment, or tap the temple to stumble across a new one or two… My mind doesn’t feel like itself today - It composes no rhyme as it is… Continue reading NOT MYSELF TODAY
One of the most celebrated, debated and discussed topic, art has as many multifarious interpretations as it has judges. Many have tried to fathom and explain its effect on the human heart and mind, and thus, I will be posting a few extracts from an article I penned about three years ago, in an attempt… Continue reading ON ART
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