Droplets.

The drops of water upon my skin became a map of all the people I had met. Some in clusters, like a diagram of the loud voices and screaming laughter conjured from the rush of a party or late night walks, high on ecstatic people. Others lay in solitude, like a simple display of talk …

We live on a canvas.

We live on a canvas. yeah... those things artists paint on, those things where thoughts and ideas solidify themselves into what we call art, those things where abstract concepts and floating daydreams formalise themselves onto what is merely a - blank space of nothingness. I wouldn't go so far as to say we live on …