A peace of white paper, hanging on to a white frame, hanging on to a white wall, hanging on to a white buidling sturcture, which is infact, being pushed onto earth.--
--More or less drunk. After work..at a wannabe art exhibition. With this artsy girl. and her fucking artsy friends. who i actually find fun...
Wait what. What art? That's not art. A white paper. wtf. Is that art? What is art.
Art is expression. Interpretation. By that logic anything can be art..
--Wearing a suite. Different than everybody here. money, cars, iraqi airforce navitimer, cash, a job. They dont have that. And yet I feel just like the white paper on the white frame. Just blending in with the rest of the world being pusshed on it by gravity. as if i dont matter, Just like the paper. the frame is white anyways, the wall is white to. does it matter if they are there? does it make a difference. Do i make a difference.
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