I thought I’ll write about my best friend, my comrade in arms and my partner in crime, today.
I thought I’ll write about art.
So many of you paint. Create music. Sing. Play the violin. Write.
You resort to it when you’re in pain. When you want to be heard but there’s no one willing enough to hear you out. When you’re in joy. When you don’t seem to be able to contain your exhilaration. When you are broken. When you want to go out there and break all that’s engulfing the life out of your soul. When you’re scared. When you’re desperate. When you’re in peace.
I’ve listened to my mum sing her pain out. I’ve seen frustration take shape into beautiful pictures on a canvas. I’ve read novels that speak for people about their incredible journeys.
Art gives you solace, when you’ve nobody and nothing to hold you and tell you everything will be okay.
And that is why, probably, when you create something, you unconsciously leave a bit of you in it. A sacred piece of your heart. So it’ll continue to speak for you when you’re no longer around.