Wherefore art thou

So. Art. Huh. Good gawd, y’all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Say it again. And yet. Here we are again. Guernica. What rough beast. Imagine. Massacio’s Adam and Eve are still stumbling from the garden. A song is sung, and a psalm. Art has never saved the flesh. But we are not, somehow, made of flesh alone.


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