It had been fourteen days. The painting was gone and with it my heart. Authored by an amateur it had meant more to me than any museum in the world. Each day that passed felt like a relentless excavation into my chest, letting in the outside ice and snow t…

There are times when music reaches me. I'm open to it, vulnerable to a melody, a drum beat, or even the sound of a single note. It vibrates my exposed self and affects my emotional state. I become a mirror of the string that the guitarist plucks and the e…