Inspiration often alights on my shoulder like a soft, little bird. Yet it flies away when I try to capture it with paint, a camera, ink, or any other medium. Each time this wind of "brilliance" blows by and past me, my heart hurts. Unfortunately, this is a pain that does not lessen with familiarity. For great art thrills my very soul, and I long to give others that delight which I so keenly feel.
So often we, or at least I, waste time and energy on cheap entertainment. Tonight I did not. A true masterpiece grabs a hold of one's soul and changes it forever. Hugo, the film, did not parade itself in gaudy colors, crying: "Look at me! Look at me!" Yet rather it dressed more as modest queen, standing in the shadows. It's hidden beauty, the underlying mystery, gripped my heart far more than any outward fancy could. The story is surreal, yet it struck a chord in all of the audience's hearts (at least when the audience is the Wagner family). Magical. An illusion, without all of the ends tied up, yet real enough to encourage me to open my mind and dream. Hugo is a breath of fresh air, truly a great work of art. As my brother so eloquently said, "It crept into my heart, my private life, uninvited and rocked me to my core."
Thus, I wish I were an artist, a writer, a photographer. For I long to inspire people to dream of becoming everything God made them to be and to know that those dreams are only an arms length away from reality. All one has to do is reach.
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