Starry night

Getting art inspiration is the hardest easy thing in the world; you're out of ideas for days until a couple of minutes go by in which your brain decides to get inspired -- and you get the ideas for weeks of work. At least, that's how it is for me. And because I am me, if you're different, I have to say that you're weird. My therapist told me that, or they would have, had I listened to them. So it was one of those idea-less days (this is a lie), and I just had to paint; there was nothing else to do (except to waste my time). Frustrated, I went for a walk to find something to paint, and when I looked up, I scared myself; the sky had become as dark as it gets, and I had no idea how I got there (at that time). And I ran back home, where, while lying in bed, I looked up (again) and noticed the most beautiful stars. Realizing I was losing my mind made me think of poor old Vincent -- who my sister, when she was a kid, only realized had died after looking at his art in Amsterdam, asking my mom (moments before crying louder than she ever had); 'Is Vincent dead.' All that to say: with a world of so much beautiful art, you never have to be out of inspiration: you can always steal from somebody who wasn't, anytime you like.