Salud!

A year it’s been.

Never even noticed it until, well,

now.

Irreversible trauma I’ve unraveled into ink and sometimes acrylic paint; the expressionist developing inside this hollow

vacuum of space between fiction and reality.

Emerging the Thomas Edison of my depression.

Ripening my sole darkness into light as I age like mature wine after being stomped in the vineyard.

Saturating my well-being with a damp wet towel of doubt, then wringing out the

Artistry. This is how artists are created. Dripping the salt from a twist in the plot.

Real healing only comes at the cost of something that sucks the life out of you.

Your celebration begins then. Now that’s a freakin holiday worth toasting to. Salud!