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The vermilion rise of words on this hot day leads me to believe in the non-stop creation one pursuing a literative objective indulges in. What is it but the world and its beauty, horrour, pleasure, vicissitudes, minutiae and blockades what one attempts to portrait in that which sometimes pops up as faulty, indefinite, precise or concise images? Whether it will be as utterances, lines, notes, paintings, photographs or propositions, the tick which encourages one to act lies deep in the person who has chosen to listen...