fallynoak

So, after a conversation with my best friend (that ended up with jokes where we try to trump the other. Morgan Freeman is always the ultimate trump), I decided I'm going to start compiling my artwork again. Typically, I stick to the written word, as it's my main love, but I'd almost forgotten how great it feels to grab some drawing utensils and etch out wondrous sketches. Yes, I'm rusty as hell, but there's something liberating in the remembering. My fingers remember how it felt to move that way, like a lover's sweet caress on electric flesh. It is delicious. Now, I have experienced numerous delights throughout the years. Hell, I even ended a night of pursuing the hedonistic gods with a trip to the hospital, but there's nothing that equals creation. How ironic is it that I draw and write of darkness and horror? Ah, but isn't there beauty in that too?

But yes, this is where I am, at the precipice of a new, wonderful revelation. In another conversation, I posed a question to my friend. "If you were offered one thing that you truly wanted, but would be permitted in heaven or hell until final judgment, except in passage, would you?" Then, I asked, what would it be? Now, I won't tell you what my compatriot said, as it is his to tell, but I will leave with this: what's the price you're willing to pay to achieve what you want in your core?