A week from hell
If I say I've just had the week from hell, you'd imagine my life's been a total mess. Not so. You can have a week from hell, and have everything just right.
For others, a week from hell means fires of the underworld burning deep crevices into the soul. And comic book versions of Satan standing with tridents poking the sinners. I imagine Hot Stuff, the mischevous little devil looking over my shoulder and telling me to embrace my week from hell.
Art production would be soul destroying if it wasn't for the fact that in the end there's this glimmer of hope for humanity when it all comes together. Just right. Down dark alleys, in the middle of the night, art hides its face from view in case it's mistaken for a crime.
But no, art is the one thing that can never be a crime yeah? I mean, it can offend but can it destroy?
The truth hovers somewhere between heaven and hell, which is my happy place. I don't mind existing on my plateau, where the weather is always just right.