Living is probably the hardest feat a human can do. But it is also the most wonderful thing a human can do. If life was going to be easy, the world would be a bring place. Every's extrodinary lives would just become normal. Where would one's true identity come from? We are made by hardship. It molds us. Wether or not we can handle that is up to us. Unlike the clay in the artist hands. We have a say in what we become. Isn't that wonderful. We are the art that lives. Everyone is the person who broke the mold.
I hope my art is a master piece. When my life is done and the clay has harden. I hope I still am able to speak after. Leaving a life where words are needless, where being alive is just not in my shell, or in wet clay, but also in others hearts.
I hope my art is a master piece. When my life is done and the clay has harden. I hope I still am able to speak after. Leaving a life where words are needless, where being alive is just not in my shell, or in wet clay, but also in others hearts.
