KuraKisa

Close your doors, gals and gents. Stuff your closet with funny bones and vertebrae from all those skeletons that danced around your head when it got cold and never open it again. Being an artist in high school was a feel trip; you could flutter heartful praises of joy and admiration in the same statement that your inner psychopath twitched as you contemplated breaking your fellow artists' fingers. Critiques consisted of "I love your artwork!" or "It's nice." and as long as it was mutually accepted, you were okay... maybe... There was no grace in being terrible. You either had people lie to make you feel better or get nothing at all. You fel

Perhaps one of the most dangerous things an unarmed Man could do is write a letter. There are infinite meanings for a single word and the ability for an entire collection of words to morph into something distant and distorted from their original intention is fathomably among the leading sources of terror in this world. Therein lies the scary thing about holding a chaotic universe within the confines of your mind; the laws that reign there may become hopelessly lost in translation.

While I still have a bit of my head prepared, I plan to rewrite the first book of Eternal, originally written by Ms. Cynthia Leitich Smith. Why? Because it's entertaining and proves to be wonderful practice. (And because it helps me understand what the heck the woman is saying...) Wish me luck!