portrait | Oct , 2011 Oil on Canvas
A man hit me in my right ear I looked askance and asked him why he done this to me, He looked at me with his doubtful eyes, saying “What?”, I could not believe it myself he acted as nothing was there, I promise I heard his voice loud in my ears, after a while I realized that voice not in t he ears but dig down deeply I was barely identify whether in the head or crashing surface of consciousness anyway.
The only left incessantly is a feeling. Ironically or rejoicing is persisting to become an experienced. Although, Sometime experiences are confining into a conventional ideal society. Ten years or a hundred year for a cultural ain’t no difference, Everything are bound to exist because of timing and probabilities and decision that one might choose.