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ART, LIKE LIFE, HAPPENS BY ACCIDENT.

A whiff of control, some semblance of steering, and belief of a firm grip.
But we’re grasping at the air beneath our feet.

The truth is: we don't hold anything. It comes in bits and bobs, dashes and jots - brief glimpses of spaces, sliding out of sight.

Glance and it's gone.
For truth, is to feel it slip away.


| THE ART OF EVERYTHING |
original art for original people