i hate all the people who go like "ohh van gogh is overrated" or "you just like van gogh cause it's popular". yeah? so what? can't i like stuff that a lot of people like? can't you admit that dude is an amazing painter and deserves every single fucking ounce of recognition? shut up, please. i'm falling in love with the starry night all over again wheter you find that good or not, bitch
Not being able to write exactly the way I feel or perceive something always bothered me. It made me feel unfulfilling as a writer, that I won't be able to bring someone, or even myself, a sense of understanding through my words. But you see, silence in itself is a speaker of art. An eye contact, the little squeeze at the back of your hand, the smile when you look at a pleasing aesthetic, watching the sky, sitting in the rain; I think through art we are trying to recreate that mass of emotions we felt at a certain point of time. But in the process of it's transfer, I realise it's impossible to recreate that thing a hundred percent. It only remains complete in your heart, in your mind, in your being, in your breath. Even though I sit and scribble for the years to come, I know for a fact that everything I created was created inside me, and I'm just taking it in my hands and trying to mold it so that other people can see it too, though they'll never see it exactly the way I see it.
— excerpts from Screaming In The Dark by Shibu Elysian
grey skies in amsterdam today
(via unintrude)
(via temporar-ily)
