cicatrice

"Finally, the door opened. It was a shock to see him shuffling into the room like an aging prizefighter. Limping. Beaten. But it was later when the great man squinted into the bitter glow of twilight and muttered simply, 'It means nothing. All of it. Nothing,' that the true shock came. It was then that the boy understood that his hero's true injuries lay hidden in a darker place, his heart. His heart once capable of inspiring others so completely, could no longer inspire so much as itself. It beat now only out of habit, it beat now only because it could."
Artistic education kills my spirit.
Plodding on.

bon iver - woods