Why do we love the things we love? Why do we attach ourselves so strongly to things or ideas even when we cannot explain why we do it? Is it possible to love something too much? And in the process, do we knowingly or unknowingly, set ourselves up for our own destruction? Our physiology presents us with these questions we cannot answer beyond the realm of instinct or reason. If history has taught us anything, it is that what we do not understand, we tend to destroy. Maybe it is the misunderstanding of ourselves that causes us to do the things we do or make the choices we make.
Life flies by with meandering intentions and no matter how cruel or unusual they may seem, they happened for a reason. You just have to believe that everything will work out in the end, because it usually does. Someday, all things in life must come to an end, but while one thing withers, there's always another beginning to bloom.
Until it comes, I'll patiently wait for my time to bloom once again.
These are some quick sketches that I sketched the other day at the Field Museum.
Tiger and Rhino
Ink
