A man is nothing but...

Just a quick thought (half of it was written during work).

Arts are the only good excuse humanity has for existing.

Without arts, humanity would be just some soulless entity teetering between life and death. Without the crazy and calm, borderless genius that dwells inside every single one of us,... life is impossible to imagine. And may just 1 in a million be willing to dig down and try to share the hidden treasures by any means, it won't be in vain. Needless to say, life is not about doing but daring.

Arts are like religion. It tries to reach the same amorph object and channel it's truth to everyone. Religion calls it God, art calls it beauty and many other thousand words. And as all religions are trying to support our struggle through our life with different methods, all believers are looking for a divine connection to this superior, untouchable thing. Meanwhile arts don't differ much. With various methods (call it writing, painting, composing music etc.) it also makes an attempt to set up a channel between us and something that is way beyond our imagination...

As I was trying to convince myself yesterday that art is a sort of religion, holidays and rain had arrived. The stromclouds from my dream eventually teamed up and defeated the sunny days. Things are back to normal...
I'm sitting in a naked room. Chilling melodies comfort me as I sit down in front of the wall. I hold a pencil as I stare at my own writings on the lavender paint. I raise my pencil and start to write...

As my troubled mind tries to focus on writing, as religion and arts battle in my head, and as day turns into evening again, one thought emerges from the others.

A man is nothing but the product of his thoughts.

As I look in the mirror I see two big eyes. Big, purple circles enframe them. A constant frown. Messy hair. Sparse beard. Average body. Careless clothing. And vertigo.

As much as I'm starting to trust myself as she asked the day before in my dream, I can still break down if I look at myself and compare the mirror's image with the one half year earlier.

Back to the wall. One day I get famous and they are going to sell this wall on an auction. Way to go, Peter! A man is nothing but the product of his thoughts...