Thelovelymazza6/Threewavylines Productions

proudly present a tale of utter heartbreak with

🎥 Danger Man Meets Harry Nilsson: Without You 🎥

Night Fisherman Under Giant Tree

by Ramy Hefny

deal of seconds-

you

along with the moment

if darkness was empty, filled with you

fetched out of the

earth

in blur pale turning

hiding

a feeling swept over the heart

Those two people might be just as skilled as the artists they copied. These people can paint anything. Not easy! But they have all the skill, and no ideas. It’s tragic, but not unusual. You know the guitarists in the Rolling Stones cover bands are always more skilled than Keith Richards, right? I would bet the most virtuosic guitarist on earth is currently playing with a Jimi Hendrix cover band in Reno, Nevada. Skill, yes, but no ideas...

Six hundred years ago, the kind of drawing and painting you can do, Cricket, would have been enough. People would consider you one of the most talented draftsmen walking the earth. But now, in the twentieth century, there are maybe fifty thousand people in the world who can do what you can do. Not exactly what you do, but they can achieve a likeness like you can. They can draw accurately. Some with great feeling, too. Just like that woman back there. But it’s not enough. You have to marry that to some idea. Something more...

“The one thing that will always be true, though,” he said, “is that the idea matters. You can have all the skill in the world, but without an idea—something that delights or challenges the mind—it probably falls short of being art.” He winced, then turned to Cricket and Jed. “Right?”

Have you every seen dust dancing in sunbeams? How it glitters like flecks of gold? Maybe that is the true alchemy. Not chasing what something is, but seeing it in a new light.

I want to age like sea glass. Smoothed by tides, not broken. I want the currents of life to toss me around, shake me up and leave me feeling washed clean. I want my hard edges to soften as the years pass—made not weak but supple. I want to ride the waves, go with the flow, feel the impact of the surging tides rolling in and out.

When I am thrown against the shore and caught between the rocks and a hard place, I want to rest there until I can find the strength to do what is next. Not stuck—just waiting, pondering, feeling what it feels like to pause. And when I am ready, I will catch a wave and let it carry me along to the next place that I am supposed to be.

I want to be picked up on occasion by an unsuspected soul and carried along—just for the connection, just for the sake of appreciation and wonder. And with each encounter, new possibilities of collaboration are presented, and new ideas are born.

I want to age like sea glass so that when people see the old woman I’ll become, they’ll embrace all that I am. They’ll marvel at my exquisite nature, hold me gently in their hands and be awed by my well-earned patina. Neither flashy nor dull, just a perfect luster. And they’ll wonder, if just for a second, what it is exactly I am made of and how I got to this very here and now. And we’ll both feel lucky to be in that perfectly right place at that profoundly right time.

I want to age like sea glass. I want to enjoy the journey and let my preciousness be, not in spite of the impacts of life, but because of them.