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| RTomens, 2021 |
Got the paints out today. Old newspaper too. And glue.
The other day whilst out in the world it felt less like the world than it used to - not obviously because everything appeared normal, apart from mask-wearers in the street - but the sense of something being...wrong...was palpable, beneath the surface. felt like nothing would ever be really normal again for generations to come long after I start sleeping The Big Sleep. Meanwhile, we're like stunned cattle, spirits slaughtered by what's happened.
I paint anyway. What else is there to do?
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