Tons and tons of things to write down, so much i don’t know where to start.
We all have illusions, some of mine have been broken.
I keep thinking about a Munch’s painting ‘Livets dans’ (Life’s dance), three stages of a woman life: innocent daydreaming, full of expectation for the future, in love passionate, and bitter with lots of broken illusions. Am i there yet? partially. I see me in this painting. But who doesn’t see themselves there?
That’s all the time I have for now. Yes, that’s the difference.