LIT 150

And we strike

We paint too many pictures. We write too many stories. We sing too many songs. If art imitates life imitates art, then we’re in the wrong classrooms. We don’t need to learn how to add to the world. We’re human. We do that on accident.

We need to subtract. We need to sacrifice. We need to sculpt.

Consider uncut marble. We tickle the surface with our fingertips. We brush our cheeks against the cold stone. We agonize while we work. Each chip a an existential decision. ‘Cause when the piece is gone, the piece is gone.

We freeze. We think that nothing will lead to something. Until one day, we feel stone in our stomachs and we raise our hammers and we strike.