How do we not understand that to love creating something is to attack the universe and the barriers of a finite species with great ferocity? The boundaries of time and space are falsities for the human imagination, our dreams and desires can readily burst those bonds that the passionate soul pushes against. The movement between the moments of capital investment and acquisition are eruptions of truth and consequence that are hidden away for fear of disruption or implosion from overstimulation. The passionate mind cycles the words so they aren’t forgotten before they can hit the page, the image is burned into the psyche and scribbled in pen on scraps so the dream isn’t forgotten, the beautiful face is impressed into the memory so that the light on her cheek will take a million years to blink out of existence across the vastness of an infinite plane. This is what it means to feel the creative urge. This is what it means for the artist to truly be alive.