Picture

 From a certain perspective, one can say, “The man and the artist are two different beings- the man always smiles when he sees the white clouds. He always smiles when the sun rises. He is most of the time delusional and,  he hopes hopelessly. He switches personalities and faces to please others. 

On the other hand, the artist feeds off of darkness, grief and guilt. He submerges into the darkness and tries to find himself in it by following his own screams that are coming from beneath. The artist has an odd obsession with the dark. So, he plunges himself fully into the night to seek solace. He deliberately pushes himself into the darkness and submits to his inner demons and sits face-to-face with them on a bar stool. To check if he is still alive, the artist pokes himself with pointed needles every night and then proceeds to write his art with the blood that spills after he pokes himself a thousand times. 

Thousands of pieces will be written and a thousand more will come, a thousand more nights will come and a thousand more demons will emerge with the artist on the barstool and the man on the other hand, will still see vaguely as he does even in the bright and white daylight. But O boy! He will smile. Even tho he thinks he is godly. He is still going to end up in hell. 

In the end, only three things will be left- the barstool, the night and the needle.