I do not love my work. I am obsessed with it. As is the case in most obsessions it drives me mad. It is not a pleasent experience to be mad, not like a summers day or a hot cup of tea on a stormy night, but a pivotal part all the same. Over time it can be quite taxing on a persons disposition and turn to dark bouts of depression. But the obsession does not stop during these times, no in fact often it drives harder asking more of you then before. When your body is so weak from exhaustion it can barely get our of bed then the light of inspiration strikes and drives you farther on into the nether regions of creativity. The things created from these moments of inglorious weakness are often the pieces that shine most brightly. For when love and pleasent airs leave you there is nothing left to do but create.

“To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream” – Hamlet


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