Don't diss someone seeking attention....maybe that's their way of seeking connection.....

Some of us may hold the opinion that a lot of behaviour

can be dismissed as just attention seeking.

One of a number of problems with that is that it simplifies

a behaviour that may have many underlying complex

reasons.

Dismissing a person's behaviour as ''just

attention seeking'' can be very invalidating

and damning for someone with a fragile

self-esteem.

These days we can all be critics of basically 

of anyone and everything. We can spew horrific critique

that can cut someone's self-esteem into slivers, crush

someone's dreams into smithereens and obliterate

someone's hope so severely that they loose all sense

 of meaning and purpose for their lives.

Not only that, we can do so anonymously

if we want to. After all, we all have the right to have

our own opinions, don't we?

Even if our opinions are founded not on

facts and thoughtful research but almost solely

 on feelings, we are often quick to express them

non the less.

And sadly though true, the fact that we can do

so without culpability makes it so much easier

to do than to express our opinions face to face.

Many individuals who aspire to be the best

at what they love doing, be it sports, arts,

cooking, photographing, curating, etc. etc. 

etc. it seems to me will have to put up

with someone whispering under their breath:

''He/she/they are only doing it to get attention.''

Personally, I have lost count on how many times

I have been accused of ''only doing it(being a musician,

painter, writer)for the attention''.

I have a huge problem with people assuming that

someone spending all their energy and time

on being able to master something they

love doing just for attention.

Why? Because it invalidates and dismisses that

individual's hard work and staunch commitment

to reach a personal goal/outcome.

Although I've spent years performing on a number of

different stages varying from a tiny raised floor to

in front of a camera as in on MTV, the attention was

not what I sought. The attention was the drawback.

It was all about the music and making music with

others who all felt the same way.

There may be some people who are all about the

attention, but speaking from years of experience, 

most people who become masters at their

discipline(art, sport, etc.) become masters because

of a single-minded commitment and dedication

to conquer through hard work and discipline

to earn the title: virtuoso, maestro etc. etc. GOAT.

So, now to the story about:

The American Geisha

On the day she was born

there were no fanfares.

Her conception not planned

just an unfortunate result.

Yet there she was

a bouncing 12 pounds.

From the very first moment

it was very, very clear

this girl was determined

and she had no peer.

She wanted to shine

everywhere and all the time.

She demanded attention

her methods sublime.

Going to school was such a bore

every lesson just a snore,

so at fourteen she had enough

....she took off, left in a huff.

She knew she was destined

for a glamorous life

so she donned a tutu

and started to dance.

But thing's didn't go the way she hoped

she ran out of money, she discovered dope.

Days became nights, caresses fights

disappointments and sadness an endless loop.

She started to hide behind her illusions

reality but, another delusion

so she spiraled down, down, and further down

no more joy, no princess crown.

Her face once so young and pretty

now elicited only pity

her body once so beautiful

now, only pitiful.

She decided to numb herself out of existence.

She woke in hospital

feeling rather dismal

but with one redeeming factor,

nurses at her beck and call.

As fresh blood entered her vein

so fresh thoughts entered her brain.

She was special, she was great

she was a princess yet once again.

She bought a tutu, a magic wand

a set of fairy wings,

a princess crown.

Her girth growing,

her soul, glowing.

Seeking endless attention

from everyone and everywhere

a bottomless pit, a road to nowhere.

This she knew, she knew its despair.

So she donned a mask, very white very bright.

Like a graceful geisha, a beautiful sight.

On her wings, colours blue, red and white,

no longer hiding, no longer trite.

She calls herself the American Geisha

as she dances through the nights.

Showered with attention all lit up in lights,

but when the show is over and it's time to say goodbye,

she knows she's just plain Lisa,

 and that is now all right.

(Citizen Z)

about the image: acrylic on large canvas

Pain is a subjective experience.............

In 1929 Rene' Magritte painted a now super famous painting

of a large wooden pipe(tobacco) with the writing ''This is not

a pipe'' under it. This caused a bit of a stir as most people

looking at the painting would exclaim: ''Of course it is

a pipe!'' But, if one was to be really finnicky, it is not

(and this is what Magritte was trying to say)

a pipe, it is the representation of a pipe.

This is a representation of a crow, 

it's not a crow. It is acrylic paint on

a canvas.

Some hold the opinion that all art is

in some way or another.........

representational, some others do not.

It is a philosophical quandary that's been

debated for years and years without at this point,

having come up with a definitive outcome

either way.

As a lyricist(song writer) I have come to understand

just how tricky it can be to come up with

representations/definitions of a large number of words.

Take the word ''colour'' for instance, how would

one depict/explain/define it to someone who is

born blind?

Words that are not physical/tangible and or

words that rely heavily on context can be very hard

to conceptualize. (depict)

Such as subjective words: feelings, opinions,

beliefs, interpretations, big, small, tasty, bitter etc. etc. etc.

Words like: time, reality, consciousness, mind,

soul and many more. One of them is pain, which is

what I am going to try and write about today.

The top image is called ''PAIN'' and is one

of my attempts at depicting how I experience pain

visually. (Tangibly)

Pain is a constant companion of mine but I have

never thought of trying to paint what that feeling

could possibly look like. Until, that is, the moment that

I realized that every time I had a neck and shoulders massage

and closed my eyes, I could ''see'' the same vivid colours

(how is that even possible??)on the inside of my eyelids.

The more the massage hurt, the more vivid the colours.

And, now.....strangely.....those colour combinations

seem to only show up when I have a massage.

For the last 15 years or so my son has been suffering with

chronic pain all through his body. This affects him in a number

of ways which in turn affects his emotional well-being

as well as his physical ability to do his work.(Composer)

When I was a performing musician I had to carry very heavy 

musical equipment every time I did a gig(job), as well

as standing for hours upon hours while playing keyboards.

One day, a long time ago, I forgot to lift my keyboard amp

the ''right'' way and so managed to destroy my muscles

and ligaments in my lower back. 

The pain that I experienced made me collapse on the floor

and unable to move any body parts without invoking

excruciating pain for the next two weeks.

Going to the toilet was a massive under-taking as

 I had to crawl on the floor in order to

get to the toilet to empty my bladder.

However, eventually I managed to

''swim away''(in a pool)enough acute pain so that

 I could keep playing and earn a living.

Years later when I quit performing live,

 I was left with a chronic

severe bursitis all through my neck and shoulders.

Pain, used to be defined as a physical sensation.

These days however, many define it as a complex

biopsychosocial experience.

Huh? And in other words?

It is not a simple reflex(physical sensation) demanding

 our attention, rather, 

pain is a warning system with biological,

cognitive, emotional and social components.

These different components(elements) protects

tissues and drives behaviour, so says those in the know.

Pain is a subjective experience and the way we

respond to and deal with it, is therefore subjective.

For the purpose of this post I will write about

two types.

Acute pain is a temporary pain caused by a temporary

illness or injury. 

Once triaged the healing can begin and often

the level of pain begins to subside.(Usually, not always)

Chronic pain is persistent and even after

the initial injury/illness is triaged and resolved,

 the pain can linger for a number of different reasons.

 This affects nearly all aspects of the sufferer's

life such as: cognitive function, memory, emotional

well being, sleep, mood and general outlook on life.

Chronic pain keeps the sympathetic nervous-

system on high alert which affects the immune-system.

This often leads to fatigue, which often result

in the sufferer feeling socially alienated.

In my view,

dealing with chronic pain would be a lot easier

if people could contain themselves from passing

unfair judgement and whisper under their breath:

''It's all in the head.''

I wish that sometimes ''pain-doubters'' could let go

of their dis-belief in that us(chronic pain sufferers)are

 actually experiencing as much pain as we say we are,

because I believe that perhaps then us ''Chronic's'' 

may be able to feel a little bit less judged, 

and a little bit more understood.

Suggestion: What people with chronical pain really want

is to not have to fake feeling well.

(Lustercraft)

On understanding what intuition is..............

''Intuition does not denote something contrary

to reason, but something  outside of the

province of reason.''

(Carl Jung)

What is ''intuition''?

One possible way of defining it is that it is: 

Knowing something that you didn't know

that you knew or/and knowing something

subconsciously before your do consciously.

I don't remember how old I was (9?) when I first

experienced the subtle feeling of just knowing

something I couldn't possibly have consciously

 known, but, it possibly saved my older

sister's life.

Walking down one of Stockholm's busiest streets,

my sister and I were prattling on, totally oblivious

of the heavy traffic surrounding us.

Just about to enter a crossing, suddenly(intuitively

I now know), my right arm (as if spring loaded) shot out 

and pulled my sister back from crossing the street.

Had I not done so, my sister would have been

crushed by the car that drove past the very same

second that she would have been crossing the street.

Intuition is often referred to as a ''gut feeling'' and

or a ''sixth sense'' but it is not something that

comes in ''one size fits all''.

Intuition, as far as I can ascertain, is the ability to 

subconsciously know something without

 first having to analyze, reason or process 

that something.

As it does not come in ''one size fits all'',

it is something we can develop with the

help of paying attention to our gut feelings

when we have them.

Intuitions can be very subtle. They can be

experienced as a ''whisper'' telling you:

''Something's wrong, I don't know what, but I

 can feel it. ''Something feels, sounds, smells,

etc. etc. strange about this."

''I don't think I should do xyz...it don't feel right.''

According to those in the know(experts), there are

different kinds of intuition such as:

Holistic Intuition founded on extensive experience

and training. (Cops, First Responders, Fire Fighters etc.)

Creative intuition, often a driving force for people

involved in the arts and the art industry.

(Suddenly there's a spark, an idea, a new thought

(seemingly out of nowhere).

Often people who work with people in any

of the many different categories of social/

community work have a highly developed

 Social Intuition sensitivity.

(Ability to sense deception and insincerity)

There is also something called Affective Intuition. 

This is where your gut feelings spring forth from as

 in: it's guided by our internal physical sensations

and emotions.

A bit technical, methinks, so......intuition

is something we all possess but have different

levels of being able to notice or recognize.

However, the good news is that it is also

something we can with a bit of work... improve.

Surrounded as we are by all sorts of people

trying to deceive us whether on line or in real life,

I reckon a fine tuned sense of intuition is

worth a bit of attention.

Mind you, someone may ask:

How do I recognize the difference between

anxiety and intuition?

Some suggestions:

Intuition is an awareness of what is happening

in us now, ...... physically and psychologically,

and nudging us to respond to the present moment.

Anxiety is about the future, about the what if's and 

the possibility of any of the imagined fears eventuating.

I imagine that the way we notice, become aware of

our intuition trying to tell us something, varies

from person to person.

Maybe it's a whisper we suddenly hear clearly,

maybe it's like a door is slowly opening and 

we can hear music,

maybe it's a sinking feeling in the stomach,

maybe it's someone shouting: DON'T DO IT!

''I feel that there are two entities inside of me - me and

my intuition. If I go against my intuition, I get

screwed every time, but if I listen to it....

we get along quite nicely.''

(Adapted from a Kim Basinger quote)

about the image: ''Looking the ID in the eyes''

acrylic on large canvas

This post is about........well, read it and find out

Although I have never really put in to words, and

I'm not even sure that I can put in to words, what

happens when suddenly an artistic idea shows up and

demands attention..........yet, I am going to try...... later.

There have been times in my life when I have

experienced events that no matter how hard

I have tried to find logical and reasonable

explanations for those events, I've come up short.

Some things, I have concluded, belong in the

inexplicable category/box.

Ever since my son was born he has

had health issues. The number of times I

have had to rush him to the Emergency

department are far too many to remember

and far too upsetting. Sitting alone at all hours

of the night on a hard plastic chair in an eerily

quiet hospital, slowly sipping bitter cold coffee 

from a flimsy paper cup while waiting for the

doctor to bring good news....that, in my

view, can make even a hard man humble.

In this last year my son has undergone life-threatening

surgery on his neck and radiation on his skull-

base with resulting blinding head-aches and

excruciating pain down the left side

of his body for which there is no effective

pain killer. Well, none that will not turn

him into a drug addict. These days

I have much practice with hospitals.

My brother and father both spent two years on and off 

in hospitals before they died.

Having lost my brother(14) when I was

 very young(12), I decided early that

if there was any God or angels of some sort,

they weren't listening.

Although I did have a taste of the UnKnowable

for a spell, I couldn't in the end accept

that any entity accepting the level

of cruelty, poverty and despair that so

many innocent humans must endure

is worth my belief.

I'm thinking that perhaps some of you who

visit this site now and then, may just

like me know what it is like to have

to deal with loss, to constantly feel

that you are cradling a small lit candle.

This, while in the midst of a darkness 

so thick that it is threatening to extinguish

your tiny but steadfast little flame.

I don't know about you, but I rather

be a candle than curse the darkness.

I rather believe in hope and possibilities

than argue about angels, gods or other divinities.

I rather set aside some time for a friend in need

than spend hours watching people flaunting their greed.

I rather seek to learn and further my understanding

than to follow any fashion or any popular branding.

I rather try to be open minded, non-judgmental and really kind

than being scared of change, of the uncertain, or by

others to be defined.

(Citizen Z)

Sometimes when I sit down to write a post,

actually, most of the time, I don't have a topic.

I turn on the computer, turn on some music,

which often is mostly instrumental, and then stare 

at the blinking cursor on the screen and wait.

Sometimes I go through my art works and

look for inspiration. Sometimes I get inspired

to make a new work so I grab some paper

pen/brushes/anything else.

Sometimes I take an old piece and totally

rework it in Elements.

Let me tell you about todays image.

(It was called ''Human Angel'' but it

looked nothing like it does now.)

I decided to just improvise with all the different

tools available in Elements.

I didn't have anything in mind but just

started to try things all over the image.

Suddenly the program jammed and I couldn't

do anything. The little thingy that spins to

tell you that it's doing stuff just..... kept spinning.

I decided to made coffee.

Coffee in hand, I sat down at the computer

again and looked at the screen.

GREAT SCOTT!!!!! Holy Sh**!!

There it was.

All I had to do was add the eyes, the nose

and mouth.

My son is the skull expert so I

instantly showed it to him.

He liked it. Awesome! My first ever skull 

painting.

I wanted to put on some text so with

a bit of imagination I do believe it's possible to see

some lines that could perhaps be .... wings ?

Anyway, the original painting is a large

canvas painted with acrylics.

Edited in Elements although I have no

clue really what I did except for

''a bunch of stuff''.

I had an artistic idea.

''There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle

or the mirror that reflects it.''

(Edith Wharton)

Feeling invisible is tough but very common............

It started with my phone deciding to have an

attitude.

It would decide when and for how long my

conversations or texts should be.

It would decide when the camera should be

turned on or off.

It decided when an alarm should go off

and stir me into action.

It, .... was the boss of me.

I decided that its reign of terror should

cease. I, was going to put the bossy-boots

to sleep.

Armed with money enough to purchase a new mobile

(cell) phone I set off for the nearest shopping

center.

Having concluded that any sort of iPhone was 

well out of my price range, I decided to try my

luck in the Samsung shop.

-Hey, how can I help you? asked the friendly

fresh faced young woman in the shop.

She had a really nice vibe about her and

seemed very approachable which made me

feel a bit less stressed about buying a new phone.

-Well, the time has come for me to buy a new

phone because this one(I handed her my old

phone) has developed an attitude with me, I said

and smiled. 

-What does it do? she asked quizzically.

-It thinks it's the boss of me so now

I'm putting it to sleep, I declared.

After I had told her my price range she showed

me a few different options.

Including one which was on special and actually

left me with a spare $150 dollars!

-Sold, I said. I'll have that one. 

-Great, she answered. She then took my old phone

and placed it next to the new one.

-I can transfer all your data from your old

one to the new one but it will take a little

bit of time. That okay with you?

-Absolutely, I answered and made myself comfy

in one of the customer chairs.

Fifteen minutes later I walked away with my

new phone in hand and the old obstinate

old one in the bottom of my bag.

Deciding that I needed a new cover

I stopped at a shop selling millions!

(well, not really) of different covers.

For some unknown reason the seller

decided to sell a $30 cover to me for $20.

Huh! Nice! I still have $130 dollars left.

Feeling good that I had saved some money

I walked to the car and pulled the car key

out of my pocket.

Next minute what once was a car key was now

lots of little pieces on the ground. Hence,

........ I could not unlock my car.

Back into the shopping center.

This time straight to Mister Minit.

-How much!!? I asked.

A hundred dollars. Geez.

That's an expensive car key.

Well, it had to be done. I gave the Mister Minit

man what was left of my old key.

 He told me it would take

fifteen minutes.

I decided to use the time to get something

to eat.

A veggie kebab. Good. Healthy.

I walked back to the Mister Minit shop

to eat my food sitting down on a bench nearby.

Sitting on the bench was a young girl.

I asked if it was okay for me to sit down

next to her. She nodded yes.

Sometimes, not very often, something

inside of me can sense hidden or suppressed

feelings in people I don't even know.

(Believe me, when this happens it freaks

me out and I just want to get away.)

But, sitting there on the bench with this girl,

I just knew that she needed me to talk to her.

Show her some kindness, some caring and that I 

saw her.

On her knee she had a fabric bag covered with

drawn little cutesy figures(kawaii anime).

Softly I turned to her and asked her if she

was into Japanese anime.

She was. I told her that my son and I

both love Japanese art. Manga, anime and

movies of varying kinds.

I also told her that both me and my son were

artists and that regardless of both of us

being the victims of copious opinions

by well meaning non artists........

For us, art is not about the pursuit of fame 

and fortune.

Art is an outer expression of 

an inner experience.

-Where can I view some of your art? she asked.

I was showing her some of my art(this blog)

on my brand spanking new phone when she

suddenly started to cry.

-Art is so beautiful, even more so when

there is some sadness in it isn't it? she said.

-Sadness, in my view is something that can

 sometimes tenderize a tough heart, I answered

then continued.......

-I have often found that sadness can sharpen

our ability to truly experience our own

frailty as human beings and I try to

convey some of that in my paintings.

Suddenly her phone sprung to life

and she had a quick look at her phone.

What she did next really took me

by surprise.

-Can I hug you? My girlfriend just texted

me and says that we have to go but I would

like to hug you before I go if that's okay 

with you?

With those words she hugged me, tears

streaming down her face and then with

the words ''I will never forget you'' she

turned around and walked away.

I picked up my new car key from Mister Minit.

Ah, so that's why the key fell apart I thought

as I walked to the car.

I needed to sit on that bench.

I needed to assure a young girl who

was feeling sad and invisible that

there are some of us who actually

 do see and hear her.

In truth, ..... We all need to be seen and heard

sometimes.

about the images: Top: Photo edited in Photoshop

above: ''Teddy feels invisible'' ink on paper, edited in Elements

All too much? How can I help......

Why do we do it? do all of us do it or only some of us?

What am I talking about? I am talking about why some

of us seem to have an innate or in-built behaviour pattern

of wanting to ''fix'' or to solve or at least help (in some

way) people who are in distress. 

As a kid I was severely bullied and often beaten up.

Only once did another kid intervene and try to

stop the beating. Although I was pleasantly

surprised when it happened, the new-found 

friendship however, did not last very long.

At nine years of age, 

Life lesson number 1. 

Friends come in a manifold of diverse/different

varieties. Each category comes with its own

often un-spoken but still specific rules and

expectations.

As I remember it, having many friends, being popular,

being liked by your peers, meant everything.

Not to me, but as far as I could ascertain

to most of the kids at school.

So here's the strange thing with me;

although I was bullied every day

I never saw myself as a victim, instead,

I thought there was something wrong with

the kids who had to pick on others all the time.

Life lesson number 2.

Hurt people hurt others to make themselves

feel better.

When I started college I joined a choir and

changed my subjects from science to all

things humanitarian. I also decided that I was

going to audition for the Conservatorium

of music as soon as college finished.

I, was going to become a professional jazz 

musician, come hell or high water.

All through the college years I had one really good

friend who was a math fanatic so we both knew

that we would be following very different paths 

when college finished.

Life lesson number 3.

One true, really good friend, is enough when

the friendship is authentic and founded on

shared values and life principles.

As I stepped into the foyer on my first day

of finally studying what I really wanted to learn,

I knew. I was finally among MY people.

There was music everywhere. Behind every closed 

door seeped, no, oozed music of some sort or another.

Somehow there was an instant connection between us 

''students'' the minute we said hello to each other.

We were all there because we felt very committed

to and passionate about music. We were ready to

give our all in the pursuit of becoming fully

fledged professional musicians.

Life lesson number 3.

Artists are a different tribe of people. The language

we/they speak, we/they speak the clearest and truest

when we/they use our chosen artistic ''language''.

Although these days we have a little more 

understanding and patience with ''creative types'',

I am going to throw caution to the wind and

suggest that most of us ''neuro divergent''

/creative types, have been told by ''well meaning

but non-understanding'' friends and relatives:

You are too: sensitive, deep thinking, over analyzing,

serious, quiet, no sense of humor, insecure, 

intense, etc. etc. etc.

They will have ideas how to fix us.

''Lets fix it. This is what you got to do.''

Ex: Just relax! Don't be so uptight all the time.

Go mix with people. Start a conversation. Try to

open up a bit. And many more similar suggestions....

Life lesson number 4.

We all are outfitted with mirror neurons. 

These neurons fire/respond equally when

we perform an action or watch somebody

else doing it. Watching somebody cry

or yawn for instance, fires up our mirror 

neurons to follow suit. (Animals do the same)

It's called empathy.

Having almost got myself killed a few times

due to throwing myself headfirst into

 all manner of dangerous situations,

I seem to be an incurable ''fixer'', ''solver'' 

and in my view...helper. 

Having been told off a number of times by

my son for ''always trying to fix/solve things'', 

I now try to think before I act.

I can't stand seeing humans or animals being

hurt by cruel, callous and ruthless un-thinking 

careless people.

Life lesson number 5.

Instead of trying to ''fix or solve'' a person or a situation,

ASK first what you can do to help, 

then offer potential fixes and or solutions.

''No act of kindness, no matter how small,

is ever wasted.''

(Aesop?)

''Be the change you wish to see in the world.''

(Mahatma Gandhi)

about the image: Graphite on brown paper

When you look in the mirror who do you see?

Dry heaving into the toilet bowl he silently cursed himself.

Too much. Once again too much. He flushed, and then

came face to face with a man he no longer knew.

Staring at the face in the mirror he asked it: -Who the

hell are you and what have you done with the face

that used to stare at me?

He rinsed his face with cold water, grabbed his

 toothbrush and discovered that the minty taste

of the toothpaste made him feel a little less

nauseous. Good. He had to be at work in 45 minutes.

A consistent drumming on the windowsill told

him that it was raining. -Taxi, I think. 

Donning his Mack he closed the door behind 

him and ran down the stairs to the entrance.

The Taxi was already there. Fifteen minutes later he

was serving his first customer.

As the day went on, the shop became so busy that

he didn't even have the time to have some lunch,

little less contemplate how he was feeling.

By the time closing time came around, he felt

good enough to walk home.

The first thing he did when he came home

from his 2nd job, the one at the night club,

was to look in the mirror. He was curious to find out

whether the strange man he saw in the mirror

that morning was still there.

Yep. Still there, although not looking as rough.

-Who are you???? he asked the intransigent,

obstinate and voiceless mirror. 

No answer. Obviously. Mirrors don't speak.

Or........do they?

If the mirror could speak, what would it

 say to me? he asked the mirror.

Staring so intently at the mirror that the image

 started to blur, he suddenly heard a voice:

-Who am I? The better question is...... who are you?

What?? Rubbing his eyes hoping to see the

image more clearly didn't make any difference.

It was still blurry. Okay. This is madness but

lets play along.

-What do you mean? I am you.

Really? If I am you, what happened to that you?

The you who had dreams, hopes and a lot of love?

-Life happened. Life happens. In a life a person

experiences tragedies, comedies and everything

in between. Life, I have concluded, is suffering.

To be or not to be, is that not the question? he asked the mirror.

That is one question. There are many more.

For instance, why do you drink so much?

Is that why you have suddenly decided to

speak to me? To chastise me? I work

in a night club. Everyone drinks.

Possibly. Drinking alcohol to excess every night

however does affect your mental and physical health.

You know this. This is when the ''stranger'' shows

up in the mirror instead of me.

Those words hurt, he thought to himself.

Looking at the blurry image in the mirror

he thought back to a time when the I,

the you or.... me...? were one and the same.

I'm not happy. I'm not following my dreams.

I'm lousy at relationships. I always get my

heart broken. Meanwhile the years fly by.

You are right mirror, I need to find a way

to become the real me again.

Please, tell me how to do it.

Please help me find me in the mirror again.

After a long silence the mirror finally answered.

The core/real you is a highly sensitive person.

An empath. This means that you are sensitive to others 

needs, feelings and emotions. 

You notice things that others don't.

You are a good listener.

However, because of your sensitivity

you often feel that you don't belong

which may be influencing you to seek

''masks'' to hide behind. 

Such as alcohol, drugs and other

''masking'' behaviours and methods.

The more masks you use the more you will find

it hard to find again the authentic you in the mirror.

-Ouch. Why is my body hurting so much?

Moving his limbs he realizes that he is

laying on the floor beneath the mirror.

-I am so confused, he says to himself as he gets 

up on his feet. He looks at the mirror.

The mirror looks back at him.

The blurriness is gone.

-Wow, what a crazy dream that was.

Was it a dream? A talking mirror. 

Huh. I must be going crazy.

Noticing that it is still dark outside

 he realizes that it's still night.

Still fully clothed he creeps in to

his bed and instantly falls asleep.

Have a good sleep, whispers the mirror.

about the image: Citizen Kane, acrylic on large water colour paper