The biggest mistake I’ve made? Holding the belief that humanity was nothing more than tiny little animals, so fragile that we must horde every scrap of happiness that happens our way, ever subjected to the whims of a chaotic world.
No, we are not animals, each and every one of us is a creator, an artist provided with vision and a palette — this world is our canvas. No one will perfectly depict his vision, but our pastime is to paint, attempting to render our imagination.
Paint splatters, strokes veer off course, light sources flicker, subject-matter comes in and out of view — there are infinite obstacles to perfection. We must not lament this state, but embrace it as part of the artistry of existence.
For so long I perceived this place as a factory for nightmares. It was all that my child-like mind could comprehend, overwhelmed by flashing lights and confused by the cacophony. But it’s a studio of dreams — any dream we dare to imagine.