Youngsters, art and a guesthouse life
Another night in the SP barracks, or is it day? I don’t know anymore, I can hear the screams of the other inmates through my door; wait screams? What the hell is happening out there…I muster the energy to get out of bed and put my ear against the door…some thumps down the hallway…oh well if the North Koreans have made it this far then my shitty plastic wooden imitation door ain’t gonna stop their advance. I lazily turn the top and bend my head around the doorframe…It’s worse!
A small child scurries about with a dumb smile and feet so lively I can’t tell if they actually touch the ground at all. Don’t get me wrong. I like kids, really I do, but dammit it’s too early for this shit, or is it late, I check my clock…Wrong again Kris you’re just an arsehole (oops), the little dude is running on legal time…I cling to the wall to avoid being run over as I slide toward the door. I heard somewhere that if you don’t lock eyes, they can’t see you. “Hello mister!” he says. Shit, well that was a lie wherever I found it. After close inspection the child is missing his two front teeth, likely from chewing on rocks or some other thing; I mean you know when you’re that age everything is new to you and all…J so many things to see, so many things to touch, taste, feel, and break…It’s been awhile since I saw a child, I wonder if all of their proportions are so mismanaged, his arms practically touch the floor and his eyes are larger than his fists…and what’s that? A soccer ball. Well at least someone got something right when they were educating the little spunk.
I challenge the kid to a little 1 on 1 down the hall, may the best man child win. Heh little dude got some moves but I just keep beating him, and beating him, and beating him…I mean he’s only about 7 but he’s rubbish…better not crush his dreams, balance the line between inflating him too big and destroying the magic bubble in his head. Oh thank Christ his mother is calling him, I can do whatever it was I was supposed to be doing…yes. Ooo snack time downstairs at the dining room so let’s do it. So the little Picasso has started drawing something on our magic white board, not sure what it is yet. But it’s something. And it’s big. And black. Unbridled creativity really is nuts. Just wait until society crushes your dreams and makes you have to get a job far simpler than your potential, and then when you have a midlife crisis, mental melt down, and start talking to a pigeon thinking it’s your ex wife, just watch… nah just kidding here, you`ll be a great man later on as long as you carry that same smile and stay rock`n`rolla…well with more teeth later J
And hopefully we leave enough of the world left for you to achieve so keep drawing. Your picture ain’t half bad little man ;)