Have you ever stared off into the distance while you're supposed to be paying attention and then you find one spot of nothing to gaze into? And that spot opens up into a tunnel, and of course you walk down it and trail your fingers down the dirt walls and go farther and farther until your somewhere else completely. Then someone calls your name and you jump and come back to reality. That's my life. I live in that little spot, that tunnel and rarely come out even when my name is called.I stow away in there, it's not dark or damp, I make it bright and flourescent. I meander through the corridors of my own mind, and stew in my own creative juices, swim through canals of sparkling cider dripping down from crystal peaks of waterfalls. Sit in trees made of silk and sugar, drink from pools of steaming caffeinated liquid confectionaries. Draw on walls and floors and cielings and trees and all other surfaces I can reach. I'm constantly covered in ink, or paint, or graphite and the colors seep in through my skin and reflect back out through my eyes. The sky matches my mood, and flowers bloom when I will them too. Through that tunnel is where I live. You're invited if you can find your way.