Sabrina Nazar

Today I am curled up on my couch with hot tea, it's heat warms the inside of my body as I gaze out through my window at the fallen crimson leaves... I am listening to a track by Michael Dana, its so beautiful in its own unique way, it's eerie guitar riffs, pan pipes and tainted mystery bring me back a time, this same time last year.... It makes me reminisce, remember the joy and obligation to my happiness I felt all at the same time. I was different then, but not so different, I think perhaps now I am not as stupid and lost in the eyes of love as I once was. These falling leaves remind me of that time.. A time of loving, connection and wonder in the days that seemed almost unreal, it felt as though that they would break at any moment... and they did. O how they did.... I think if nothing happens to you on a greater scale as an artist, you cannot call yourself an artist. Because the nature of an artist is to transcribe experiences and reminisce in the past and future and somehow mould those experiences and perceptions in a certain way to create a physicality represented in the present for people to connect with....

Sometimes when you feel such beauty it is hard to stay afloat