I like storybooks. Worlds instory books are full of gorgeous clothes, words, jewels, princesses, and magical gimmicks which culd turn tears into pearls. I am also afraid of reality. These are too many evil men and too much malice in our world. Whenever I hear of homicide or violence, I wish I could wipe them out from this world by placing a curse them.
However, depite how much I fear and hate this world, I belong to it nonetheless. I decide to inscribe my fear towards reality in my paintings. Of course, I do not portray ugly and nasty things. I fear is wrapped up beautifully by storybook devices. These include girls, jewels, and fantasy creatures with unicorn's horns.
The world I build is pretty yet fragile. That is because I, who conceive of the world, am a vulnerable existence stepping on reality. As a world turns into a curse or a blessing in storybook, if somebody whispers m 'you are wrong' or 'it is all fake' over a hundred times, then the fairy tales might lose its power. However, I shall keep on draing. If I keep on drawing as casting a spell, then one day my paintings might gain power and become magic that could make people forget their reality.