I like to think I should have been an artist, impoverished, living in an attic in Paris, pouring out works of art that are a wonder to behold.  Instead, I have random periods of time in which I feel inspired, may it be for a day or a week or a year, during that time I am frantic, drawing or painting every opportunity I get. But, once the feeling has passed, nothing, no drawing or piece of artistic excellence anywhere on the horizon! Maybe I am possessed, just now and again.

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