“It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.”
(-Henry David Thoreau-)
-What moves you? Why?
Going beyond the (sl)easy obvious, the pre-publicized cool, the socially accepted industry formated esthetic norms, beyond the ''automatic-hipster-I'll-live-my-life-in-Sepia-thing'', whilst not falling into the sloppy emptiness of cheap signalling and vain provocation, will not be easy. and failure is a definitive possibility. Yeah, put your money where your words are.
-''A definitive possibility.''
But then again it's the possibility of failure, the acceptance of aging, the lines, the scars, the cracks and the wrinkles that add flavor, smell and spunk to the whole experience. A real tear in an old pair of jeans, not that ''buy yourself a story'' bullshit you can find in shops: ''hand torn using an abrasive stone process in Mexico''. Bollocks. Chili tobasco.
-Authenticity.
Blood and tears. Olive oil, sweet white wine. An afternoon too many in the sun. A headache that draws a smile, a smile money can't pay for. That place you can't and don't want to remember. A cold night out. The shiver of a paper cut. A second one.
The value of imperfection. An old watch, a crumbling arch, an unfinished piece of fluorescent genius left dripping down some alley wall to the naked appreciation of a howling siren. Flashing lights. Blue blazer, red jeans, white sneakers.
-A tree split in half.
The out-of-tone pullover your granmother knitted you for Christmas. (The one you love but will never wear.) And finally, what is not perfect allows us to accept ourselves.
In the big picture, we're just all small frames. have a good laugh, it's at our expense.
Be human. It's all that matters and it's all you've got. Be free'
We are not a world of supermodels. Or Einsteins.
-But it's OK. But it's OK. But it's OK.
Yeah, this glass is not half full or empty. It's just cracked down the side. Take a sip.
Watch your lips - buckle up - enjoy!
A.
