the frustration of not being able to express myself is taking over all my senses it is expanding inside of me soon very soon I will explode by its force
the words are too many the pictures I want to recreate with them are to delicate detailed to be explained by mere words I would never succeed it would become a book and it would still not be enough
trying to pin down trying to paint with words page after pages has been written and none of them is sufficiently accurate it is a puzzle with no pieces a book with no words a song without a melody the meaning of the words are missing
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