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Rated: 18+ · Other · Other · #2010535
an artist suffers
The wall
It`s everything, a painting fixed on a wall in a gallery, but I`m who is on the wall.
Oils and acrylics on a canvas are the battle between my crumbled heart and soul, and my stray mind. Colors are the sleepless nights, in which I transformed to the painting. My laughs as a kid in a ranch plays with his brother and friends. My mother worried-eyes following me while I`m swimming in the lake for the first time. My first kiss under the tree. My first time seeing a cow delivering her baby. Acting sleep while my drunken father starts fighting with my mother. The day my elder brother and I forced him to leave us forever, that day I felt like a grownup, but my mother luck with men never changed. My bad feeling that she actually liked this pain. My first having sex, and how I felt I wanted to hurt her, thinking she might like it, but at the end I lost her forever.
My first day in a city, the monster city, I was forced to hear all those mixed noises accompanied with the fast-moving everything, struck by whoever walked, did not find any life in the crowded eyes, and felt like a dot on the noisy screen.
My first day working in advertising; a bolt in a huge machine. My first critical reviews; a naked child in the rain. My first true love; understanding blue and yellow. My first time deserted; meet black.
My dreams of the blue comes from black and a possible rainbow and I am not a digital being.
I was on the wall hoping for someone who feels.
I noticed an elegant man coming towards me.
"How much is it worth?" asked the man without even looking at the painting.

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