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Liana FinckThe New Yorker |
Over the years, I’ve begun to feel like a piece of furniture.
A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.
It is easier for me to write my truth than to speak it.
A drawing that riffs on the latest news and happenings.
I️ need to honor my existence and this wonderful life, and make things. But, first, I️ need to get out of bed.
How dare life require so much of you, when what you were born to do is sit in a corner of the room and watch and draw?
Finding a way through the past, the present, and the unspeakable.
Banish the emptiness of not feeling useful, productive, directed.
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