The year is such a year as to make even me- tired and dreary with work- rekindle my artistic spirit.
Am I a drunk or artist or athlete or something else? Do I wander through this moment of race riots and the loss of Hong Kong's freedom while drinking a beer looking out a window watching the sun on the leaves of the trees so lucky because my cousin is stuck in her apartment in the dark and I'm afraid of my own shadow and need a mask to cover my face. A man dies and the painting I created is already out of date, but I still love my friends and I speak out at the horror and mayhaps I'll have another beer. I suggest you drink along with me and welcome to 2020.
You'll never have another like it.
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