As the creative avenue one chose entraps by its volume of experience, each sideway glance reveals horrors beyond belief. What reference to me do the mighty towers of fine craft furniture, lost from all direction deliver? More distorted forms, more strangled contortions that communicate only the makers skill. Yet to have taken these processes to heart, learnt to form any idea within their walls, there only seems a parade of mundainity to stand alongside. I will find a way. I will find a home for my children.
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