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Literature Text
Art is dead.
Gone are the days when the soul could manifest
When it could pour on to a page or canvas
Leaving it red with the heartblood of the artist.
Now the pages are white.
The beating of the imagination has stopped.
Stopped. Passion
Stopped. Love
Art. ended.
Gone are the days when the soul could manifest
When it could pour on to a page or canvas
Leaving it red with the heartblood of the artist.
Now the pages are white.
The beating of the imagination has stopped.
Stopped. Passion
Stopped. Love
Art. ended.
I wrote this after my art class. Great sentiments to be evoked from an ART class, no?
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