Portrait of Artists and Small Good Things

I came across these thoughts which reminded me of how much I searched and gave for such a miracle. I wonder if such things still exist or our world is too busy and depressed for art, artists and friendships, a universe too tired to see and feel miracles. "Faith is a powerful thing", warned me someone, long time ago. And even so, I guess I am one of those few insane people who still believe in fairy-tales, although this often offers us only destruction ... but no matter what the cost is, we all need something to believe in, don't we? ... 

"Usually the artist has two life-long companions, neither of his own choosing ... poverty and loneliness. To have a friend who understands and appreciates your work, one who never lets you down but who becomes more devoted, more reverent, as the years go by, that is a rare experience. It takes only one friend, if he is a man of faith, to work miracles." (Henry Miller)

Drums and heartbeats

This cover reminds me of my own heartbeats. Deep down, behind the sound/the flesh, behind the lyrics/my words, behind every utterance, every breathing, every mask. It is the rhythm that you hear especially at the beginning, the one that I hear inside myself, when I listen, the one that I heard so long ago, on ice. It reminds me of what I have put in all my dreams – deferred, destroyed, or still hanging there. It reminds me of my first flames of passion, of how much I loved to dance and how much I wanted to be born in another country. And it reminds me of growing up, of meeting the World of Words, putting in them what I felt in every winter and what I had to leave in the world of childhood. I am probably a slave of my own heartbeats, inside myself, outside myself, in the things that I search, in everything that I want to say, in every person that I meet and cherish. It is this heartbeat that I want to offer to my people, this one that I try to put on a blank page, and at the same time, the one that burns. It is the sound that I want to let it free, the one that I keep searching, being there, and still, unable to grasp. The only religion that you have, the only thing that makes you feel alive. And still, without a name, without a proper word to be defined ...