FaSho

December 12, 2008
"Thought is only a flash between long nights, but this flash is everything."
-Henri Poncare

He was smart. Not just smart in the way that he always raised his hand in class, reaching for the stars to impress his uncaring instructors with his knowledge, but in a different sense, he knew how to do things, how to make beautiful art, and he knew the world. He was a vicious lion in the art room, attacking sculptures like someone would attack someone who has done them wrong. Always challenging himself. And even though he was so intelligent in skilled, his mind went blank when the clay was placed in front of him on that burning day; stunned. The hot sun beat down upon him like naysayers telling him what he can and can't accomplish. He wasn't like that. Tell him what to do and he wouldn't, but let him on his own and something amazing would form. So as he sat on the back porch of the art studio, he knew what he wanted to sculpt. The one person who'd helped him through everything. Unloving family, cruel school children, his own insanity, one person had always been there. Himself. The only one that ever really loved him. his greatest masterpiece would be that of his vain hero, the one that would never save anyone.

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