and then Annabel Lee found me Never underestimate the power of human stupidity. The magic is not in the written word. It is in the read one.
~Robert Anson Heinlein
The real artists are the readers, those entities that absorb, interpret, mold fantasies and finally end up with a product the likes of which is the intended piece of art. Maybe pieces of art, as to each their own interpretation skills. And skills it takes. And magic.
Sure, the writer provides the skeleton and without skeleton there is nothing to hang the rest of the body on. Yet, it is the reader who provides the flesh, the heart, the breath, the soul. No reader Ė no soul, no art, isnít it?
Of course, some writers have the means to buy their readers. Some revert to mendicity. In between there is the dying of hunger. I guess, it is where I am.
©anonymousatalfm Hay Fever
©anonymousatalfm Kindergarten... Kind Of
©anonymousatalfm No. Yes. It Is A Story About Humans
©anonymousatalfm The Last Dog
©anonymousatalfm Birmingham United
©anonymousatalfm Patience. Yeah...
©anonymousatalfm A Zombie Stole My Loverís Body
©anonymousatalfm "Some Women"
©anonymousatalfm Egypt, This Time
©anonymousatalfm Blind Date
©anonymousatalfm Oh, No, Not Again...
©anonymousatalfm Tra & Silvania & Co. (ie Count)
©anonymousatalfm Scavenger's Daughter
anonymousatalfm is a pseudonym for yossi faybish
Never underestimate the power of human stupidity.
The magic is not in the written word. It is in the read one.