I love rocks, volcanoes, rough textures, and the hoarse sounds the ocean makes as the
waves break out on the shore. I love the silence and crash of the water in a waterfall. I love to
be surrounded by still landscapes.
I want to feel the textures and hear the voices of what I see. I want to hear the voices of the
wind and rain; to smell the damp earth, the whispering grass. I need to hear the sentient hush
of the landscape. For me, beauty is more sensory than visual. I somehow have to feel what I
Humanity, motion and emotion, and nature, all inspire me with their wild beauty and raw
grace. I love wrinkles. And old people. They know so much; their opinions are refined from
experience. And young people who have found their path early, and walk it without fakery or
pretence. And the raw, smoker’s voice of the unusual guy just being himself, creating his
music, lost in his own self-expression. There is beauty to be found in originality, and also in
the innocence of childhood. Somehow the sea, the rocks, the people are all comfortable in
their own skins, and I find inspiration in this natural beauty.
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