Current Mood: pleased
The Problem: As it turns out, modern art can actually be quite good
Ask me about art and I will no doubt mention Van Gogh, Vermeer, and Hans Holbein the Younger. They’re my top three favourite artists — well, my only favourite artists considering that they’re the only ones I know and their works are the only ones that make me go ooooh! in excitement. I go on day trips to London just to see their works in The National Gallery.
I’m by no means an art buff, but I like looking at old paintings because they are essentially a snapshot of the past. Modern art, on the other hand… I don’t see the thrill. However, I recently came across an artist by the name of Mark Rothko and I was assigned to write a creative piece on one of his paintings.
Suffice to say, I find modern art to not be so bad after all.
She is a fire-hearted girl trapped between the joys of youth and the promises of maturity. She is bubblegum smiles and ice cream hugs and overwhelming thoughts. She is of the world and simultaneously not of it. She is bright and warm and happy, and also blinding and heated and almost too much. She is used to be your best friend, she looks like your best friend, she is your best friend still. Or none of the above because she, as it turns out, is you… intricately flawed and cosmically perfect.
Over and out.
New Mood: still pleased