I'm Aly Logan, a 23-year-old art-lover with just enough intelligence and hotness to get by. I dream and love with desperation. Even my regrets chisel my soul with a sharpness that screams, "I am real!" But I only exist as a character in the pages of The Art Of My Life, by Ann Lee Miller. Yeah, it sucks for me. But, hey, there are worse things.... So, if you want to talk about how art dissembles life or if you missed having an imaginary friend as a kid, here's your chance.
So, I made a wrong stroke. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway because I wanted to. Now the picture is ruined. I suspected I’d already screwed it up a long time ago, but now sunlight gleams on my personal disaster. It doesn’t matter what I do with the canvas, it’s etched on my soul and will always live inside me.
