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Welcome to my ant story

Welcome to my ant story

Welcome to my ant story. In my ant farm there’s a tunnel from my heart to my art gallery. I dug it eating sand.

Seriously, I keep wondering whether Francis Bacon would have been so messy if he knew how many photos would eventually surface of his disgusting studio. Of course it’s a mesmerising mess, primarily because he turned out so expensive.

And now it’s a tourist hotspot. They call it “energetic” — visit Bacon’s energetic studio.

Believe me, if his art was worth nothing then the mess would have been less interesting. His financial challenges, and his depressing love affairs made everything enticing: messy home, messy heart.

Nobody makes you into a pig, you decide for yourself how you want to be perceived. If you pig out it’s better to do it in private. Turns out, pigs sleep for 8 hours a day. If you’re worried about your pig being stressed out, there are pills called Pig Calm.

So this went from being an ant story to a pig story. I don’t know if mere sand is the common denominator. It think it’s actual dirt. I pity the dirty. In a way I envy them too, but that’s the fine line we all walk.

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There are people who hug trees

There are people who hug trees

There are people who hug trees. I thought it was just a myth until I found someone who takes it seriously on Facebook. She gives each old tree a genuine embrace as if to say, ‘Thank you for the sha...

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There are people who hug trees

There are people who hug trees

There are people who hug trees. I thought it was just a myth until I found someone who takes it seriously on Facebook. She gives each old tree a genuine embrace as if to say, ‘Thank you for the sha...

Read more