Feb 23, 20221 min read

In the studio

To wait

Alone

While the world keeps moving forward

Still

Alone

Waiting

Oftentimes it stops making sense

The piece

The waiting

The work

Even oneself.

And the trees remain without any leaves

Day after day

Like nothing good could sprout from them

While the world keeps moving forward

and forgets them.

Winter seems eternal

and the grey branches seem dead.

But no,

they're not.

They're just waiting

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