Musician Spirit

Max : I lived on the isle with food scarcity.

Red with full mouth : Communism.

Everyone else seems to really like their houses though, and you can’t see inside of them, so you just assume that you’re being weird.

And then you hear about the construction project that’s happening down the road. And you didn’t know that was an option. You can just…fix your house? It can be better? You don’t have to live with the horrible lighting and weird furniture?

But other people scoff at the construction. They complain about the noise. “Why can’t they just be happy? The plumbing is great and the furniture is so comfortable! Why would you change it? And why do we have to deal with all their issues anyways? They could just do it quietly, away from us!” And you thought everyone hated their houses, at least a little. And it’s so much work to renovate. It’s fine in your house. It sucks, but it’s fine.

Then one day you try putting up a new painting. Something small. Just for you. Just to try it. And it feels like you. It feels right. And you didn’t know anything felt that good, ever. So you start to do more. And more. And eventually you might even start construction. And it’s inconvenient, and loud, and people complain, but you didn’t know that it could feel good to go home.

And then, one day, your renovations are done. And you get to have a home like everyone else. And that joy you felt looking at that painting? It’s everywhere now. And it’s normal.