Painting Completed My Life.

I Have Suffered Two Grave Accidents In My Life, One In Which A Streetcar Knocked Me Down... The Other Accident Is Diego.

I Wish I Could Do Whatever I Liked Behind The Curtain Of “madness”. Then: I’d Arrange Flowers, All Day Long, I’d Paint; Pain, Love And Tenderness, I Would Laugh As Much As I Feel Like At The Stupidity Of Others, And They Would All Say: “poor Thing, She’s Crazy!” (above All I Would Laugh At My Own Stupidity.) I Would Build My World Which While I Lived, Would Be In Agreement With All The Worlds. The Day, Or The Hour, Or The Minute That I Lived Would Be Mine And Everyone Else’s - My Madness Would Not Be An Escape From “reality”.

I Am That Clumsy Human, Always Loving, Loving, Loving. And Loving. And Never Leaving.

The Only Thing I Know Is That I Paint Because I Need To.

I Used To Think I Was The Strangest Person In The World But Then I Thought There Are So Many People In The World, There Must Be Someone Just Like Me Who Feels Bizarre And Flawed In The Same Ways I Do. I Would Imagine Her, And Imagine That She Must Be Out There Thinking Of Me Too. Well, I Hope That If You Are Out There And Read This And Know That, Yes, It's True I'm Here, And I'm Just As Strange As You.