I might not always understand art, but I sure as hell feel it. It’s messy and never perfect, but it’s always beautiful in its own way. It’s a visual representation of not only time and effort, but of passion. It’s a way of putting a piece of your soul on display for others to see, and trusting them to find similarities in their interpretation. It’s open to vulnerability, knowing not everyone will see it in the same light. Just like the love I have for him.
