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Death is equal to love (Quite equal)

   Death is a hunter for some. For others, it's just another humiliation in this life, preventing them from being something worthwhile, shortening lifes time even further. But death is the moment when love manifests itself most. Love in the most clichéd form of purity, but love in the general sense, because as I said, I don't understand much about love (and for me, it's not a very important thing... but that's a topic for another day, hehe), a love that involves friendships, brotherhood, the simple yet grandiose solo presence, and even romantic and familial love. In the moment of loss , you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. In the moment of loss, you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. How artistic they were with their way of speaking, bringing harmony to your family or just to you, moving, etc. And then, you begin to carry that being's life with you, immortalizing their existence. Life and death are th...
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The love that loves even inexisted

 



   Love doesn't have to be something conscious all the time or even responded to. The lonely person still loves without existing for what they love and for their destiny, even if it isn't as expected.

Those tired of their own unique presence will always seek love but will never have a sense of the innocence of this feeling.

 Your focus should not be loneliness, but rather your intuition to love so as to never leave your fragility in mind.

But love is an extremely fragile and volatile thing that even the most narcissistic can be destroyed and lose their honor through the humiliation of not being loved by the world or by anything else. If, at that moment, your self-love wasn't enough to defend yourself against such humiliation and wanting to "cure" this loneliness quickly, you wouldn't be able to understand that you lost your world to a soul (or souls) who didn't even make an effort for you, not even in malice. Love can turn against you, a fragile thing that can turn into a heavy dissatisfaction with everything and everyone, never letting you know when your heart will be satisfied or what it truly wants.


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Be art, be dead - Dead to the insignificance

      "Be art, be dead" -  It's common to say that life is cruel, that life is this or that. But then, if you stop and think about it, even what's called "help," like religion (any religion) or some philosophies like Sartre's existentialism , which places the weight of total freedom on your shoulders, also screws you over a bit. They all have a good point, but they always leave you in a gigantic insignificance while only the rest is beautiful. My parasites, my paintings, help you think lightly about your own life and help you separate the grandeur of the universe from your innocent existence. Being dead to the life that forces you to be pathetic, being an art unto yourself. A masterpiece that is also part of the universe. A small, walking universe.    This is the movement of my art: being dead to the world you don't belong to and don't control. Being the masterpiece and the artist who transforms the joy of living by being aware of, and not ashame...
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The surreality of death and the realism of life

That Chaos—Nature, God and gods, Demons, and perfection and imperfection. The death that gave life to existence. Inexistence , in terms of reality, is the culmination of being the silence of this chaos. Simply enjoying your own world, understanding your own time and moments of connecting to worlds outside yours and how you can't control these worlds (nor be the artists of these worlds), being something that always gets in the way of everyone (but always defending your own innocence and dignity), and being something that can be aware of its own weaknesses and simply allow everyone to exist and talk to you about their problems and their lives (remembering that you shouldn't solve certain problems for others, but rather help), and simply speaking to them without expecting something "real" to be lived. Life is the realism of a masterpiece, artistically speaking, not philosophically, where even the most stupid or simple detail transforms an entire space into something incr...
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God's Unfinished Work

  I don't have any religion, but I still enjoy listening to the stories and even reflecting on them sometimes. In fact, one of the things I always think about when it comes to God is this idea of making everyone special, with unseen or unpredictable destinies. If you think about this sometimes or often call on God, I'd love to discuss it with you.If for God we are unique and each of us has a different destiny, what does God gain from this? What does this "mission" add to the existence of this "being"? Comment below on the blog! The " soul ," the essence of a being, is a copy of another being; it's not perfect. A sculpture of blood is meant to be a unique creation, definitely divine, because when it comes to God, it makes sense to me that we are pieces of him, each personality or form of him, making "him" also imperfect and his existence. A paradox that can still expand to something beyond it. The unknown is not impossible to know, ...
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