As I wade myself upon the leisure of wandering, at times I find the often hidden away gems of individuals. These works they would call their frustrations and venting. Such beautiful relinquishing of themselves behind the driving force of duress only this world could offer. Oh how they speak of their ills and cast away the shadows of their false pretenses and social masks. They are unhappy with themselves, they are unhappy with their lives, and if only in the boundaries of that fleeting moment they can admit another side of their minds. The irony is of how distressed they are in such regards, how aloof they are to the admittances of themselves, their passions, their angers. That they take the worst of what they feel and antagonize the pages of their work with the darkest and relieving of intent. I see so much of them in these hidden gems. The shadows of ourselves differ little than the light but we do treat them with ignorance all the same. When I see these pictures, I yearn that they might accept more themselves before the running retreats unto the comforts of crafted realities and social begging bring them back to theirs knees of constructed character and defined puppetry. they deny a gift...and the king knows all of these gifts lost.

You can always smile to them all. You can always please them. But can you please yourself?