we live in such a glut of incredible art that the masterpiece threatens to become pedestrian. you can scroll past ten of them a day, and by the night they are forgotten.
yet in their light, to try seems to be to pretend. but to pretend is the only game in town.
what then?
is there room in the ocean for another drop? oh, to dissolve imperceptibly into its vastness is accepted. but can you bear to dilute it so?