The neighbor kid is lost in the sauce and can’t see the forest for the bottles, or much of anything else, now in a medically induced coma. Momma cries, she was never able to feed the boy; insatiable since birth.
As creatives we must do more than quietly bury the famished bodies; tears fallen into a tissue fall all the same. Seeing beyond ourselves individually and viewing our artistic talents as instruments we report for duty; here to feed and inform as we are able. Everyone’s hungry. At the end of the day do we want to be executive chefs serving pricey food to people that can afford it, maybe, or do we want to run a soup kitchen with the best soup on the block? A bit of both is necessary perhaps. Either way, we’ve got to remember why the people are there and that without substance they will surely not return.
Innately humans search for something to believe in, something that makes the notion of waking in the morning seem a gift from above rather than a foretaste of the realms below. Some have faced that demon of the day since their youth and have learned to embrace it. We want to be here not because we don’t see the sadness but because we do see the beauty, it’s still here and when we catch a glance we’ve got to not be greedy. Beauty feeds and so our job as creatives is to multiply and interpret, making it accessible to those who need it most, everyone.