Mud paint and memories.

Beth was an artist. On some days, she would take half-filled whiskey bottles and paint her boyfriend's face on it. The skin would be dark and the nose small, the lips chapped and cheeks flushed. She would color every inch except the small circles in the eyes. She would leave that to the sun and whiskey. It had to resemble his eyes, after all. On other....

For all of us.

When I say this, I am speaking for a lot of artists who have spoken to people about their art, we've all been asked way too often about what inspires us. I've tried to brief the answer to this kinda-short-kinda-long poem that I hope you'll really like. I talk about everything that makes an artist creative and then I talk about why this poem is actually for all of us. Also, there's a mini-tale in it. It starts something like this - 'Creativity stems from happiness, and happiness from us...