I admire beautiful compositions across varying mediums and art forms and yet find myself struggling at best to compose anything of my own. I see the image and cannot translate it into form. I hear the music, and again, useless. I feel something driving to escape. I am too much of a picky perfectionist to accept my own amateur attempts, but I know I must choose a path and improve.
Practice
Practice
Practice,
I suppose.
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juvenile, and badly written. incoherent at its best, and a seeming jumble of random letters and the occasional word at worst.
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