Your greatest genius is that you create art from the unthinkable. A photo is enough, and you're already creating. And art is so inexplicable. This flow of thoughts. Where do they come from? Words are mixed. You choose them like a goldsmith or a watchmaker, setting diamonds in a new piece. Is it very existential? Maybe we don't have to pray. The divine is supposed to be there. All we have to do is do good things. God must be love. And that comes out of your soul, gushes forth, fills every interstices of this platform.
We continue creating. It's art that sets the rules. Do we know the greats of the past, why? Only through words and art. Let's hope that when we're gone, someone can read our thoughts.
The Dutch word is "bidsprinkhaan" so it's actually not too difficult to come up with that. No idea if it's cold in different languages the same (bid = pray, sprinkhaan = grasshopper).
Funny you mention the goldsmith (do they still exist?) as a child it was suggested to become one (I don't like gold LOL).
Thanks for hopping by. Who know we will be read one day and if not i read myself. I still like what I write.
A happy day.
I still read you. I sort through pieces of wood. I organize the pelicans and mow the lawn. My ears are ringing. Has the power gone out? Or are the 300 wolves still howling? It doesn't matter. I still can't hear them. He translates for me. Praying and grasshoppers.
The wolves are quiet they will on certain hours, unless one breaks free and has fun. No dead sheep dragged over here just and annoying dachshund howling like a wolf.. I shouldn't have said that now they start LOL
My ears son't ring just the rhithm of typing or how to write. It's dark, who needs power if it's bedtime? I hope the ventilator is fixed and will damaged my painted wall. Did the pieced kill the pelicans? Time for a bottle.. (milk).