“Every artist creates a screaming picture of both reality and fantasy.”

They paint pictures with emotions they feel and create a portrait of people, real people. These weren’t people with a single emotion depicted upon their face, nor were these people frozen in a single moment without lives. The portraits were of people that shrieked with emotion, people the emanated real life. It is beautiful and horrifying all at the same time.

One creates a portrait of the dying embers of their ancestor, once strong and brave crippling and broken. They use midnight black and moor colored brown.

Another forms a portrait of selfishness, a picture of the Queen of Avarice falling and being executed. They use a shimmering gold and blends it with a lonely blue.

The last builds a portrait of survival and desperation, a picture of beggars scavenging among dumpsters, a picture of street lined whores with smeared makeup crying among stray cats. They use a pallet of colors ranging from a mud brown to an anxious red.

Each artist carries a dream within their breast, an ambition they hide even from themselves. The artists, each brilliant in their own way, yet each tormented by their own demons, fight to keep themselves alive. They fight the ugly emotions they try to drown in a sea of paint, but the more they try the more they drown themselves. And in that struggle, that beautiful desperate struggle, that strains their imaginations making them reach beyond the stars, they find each other.

They paint pictures with emotions they feel and create a portrait of people, real people. It is beautiful and horrifying all at the same time.

“It is the inspiration every artists inspires that allow writers to create the fantasy mixing it with reality.”