Old wounds are beginning to surface due to the extreme sense of Déjà vu. Triggers and traps are all around. I cannot ignore them. It’s becoming unhealthy for me, mentally, emotionally and physically.
I would, ideally, simply like to paint. I’m an artist. I’m not a tough-gal. I’m not someone who enjoys the sad reality of the streets. The decay and despair is contagious. I can wash my body – but scrubbing my mind fresh is a whole other task.
Before long, either I must obtain my own studio/gallery space or find gallery representation. I’ve done my time – I done the ‘streets’…now I’m just done.