Now the city has its butchers

and its gentlemen in black

and a quiet one walks softly

with the night bound to his back

Others bark and bare their molars

strike the table, call it pride

Thorn says little, pays for coffee

lets the noisy wolves decide

He has cuffs as clean as Sunday

hands as harmless as a prayer

that is how the worst ones take you

not with thunder

It looks like you're a little quieter online as of late so from a stranger I hope you are well!

Your art is simply mesmerizing.

Hello Anonymous,

thank you very much for your kind words. Yes, it's true, things have been pretty quiet here over the past year and a half, and I've been creating far less art than I used to. I've been dealing with chronic exhaustion, and even the smallest tasks can leave me drained. It's been hard seeing it affect my art, because art has always been such an important part of my life.

The inspiration and ideas are still there, though. They never really went away.

Over the past few months, I've been writing more, getting lost in books and films, and I've visited Florence twice, which was incredibly inspiring and uplifting.