Sometimes my pen makes art. I really don't know why I get away with it. But it seems my latent talent was latent.
I grew up with art and artists, but only drew on my jeans. My art was torn to shred over the years.
Now, my pen shows again promise. It also is a journey into the pains that seem to drive the pen. The blues are sung in misery to lift us above.
I ask you to Wait!
Mayumi
Wait!
