What I love about my stories
—is that they are.

What I hate about are
—is that ares are too big for my songs.

What I love about my song
—is that I can sing it to my paintings.
(They won't complain.)

What I hate about my paintings
—is how less than me they are.

What I love about are
—is that I can fill one with my silences.

What I hate about my silence
—is that one day it will be lasting.

My stories are my song.
My paintings are my silence.
I give them to you.
But my thoughts belong to me.