the desert.

caught in a no-land zone;

where you're too uncomfortable in the current place,

but escaping back to the past is just too...escapist.

yet it's hard to grasp for something in the present.

it feels shallow, to try and recreate the emotions, the moments - they will never come again.

was back in the art room today.

each time i go back to that place, it only feels more distant - like a movie scene where one goes to an old playground and can hear the children's laughter from years ago, ringing in their heads.

if we try too hard to recreate the beautiful hours, reincarnate them by painting there - i think it would taste sour, bitter; the disgusting, dry flavour of tryingtoomuchness.

i guess we should revisit only in nostalgia.

but now life feels like a mere discarded shell of what it was before.

there is no point, no purpose,

no beauty.

everything feels dry and distant.