Art is not exclusively created by and for the lucky ones. Each life is a deep mine of events and emotions that is ours to dig up and use if we wish to. What we find in that mine might feel too heavy to be excavated, or be broken into such tiny pieces they seem worthless, but that doesn’t matter. The trick is to polish those pieces up, to make them shine with the laughter of recognition, of realizing that we are not alone, that we have this common language.
