Well it’s more of the same. My life keeps getting made harder by the body that was created to enable (yeah right/write) seriously injured workers to live a normal life. The only good thing about how I am currently being treated is it has made me creative. Painting serves a different purpose to writing and it feels simple and fun. It feels nice to switch the brain off. I have written my best story but nobody deserves to read it, yet. A friend asked why I always paint people and body’s? Because every single daily event in my life is somehow centred around what my body can or cannot do. This is my version of crying on a street corner in front of everybody on a sunny day.

I painted over the first one, RATIFIFIED

SO THIS IS THE LAST OF IT