Lake Ontario must be wonderful. One must paint or write. Or pull the thread of the reapers very easily in your latitude. Art is that need to create, which the artist has. The structures and laws of art matter little. When you create, you are a God creator of worlds. You are creating. There is no time for petty technicalities. Everything revolves around the creative act and the feelings that emerge. It is the inner struggle of what is being born on paper, on canvas, in the air. What do human miseries matter? Art is. It prevails. You are, the artist. Consider yourself the artist. You don't need to prove anything. Your art is your child that already has a life of its own. You will know the father through the son. You will be recognized.

The one who writes thinking about what he could earn, (maybe, he is not an artist). You write or paint or compose because it is a necessity. So you are going to be creating your work, even if there is, or not, any of these new structures with ridiculous paradigms. So I understand what you're saying: that you're not writing or creating to please anyone but yourself. Least of all for a derisory price. History is full of artists who died with limitations, but their works are like the sun. They melt the waxen wings of those who try to get too close. There is no magic rule: what is good in art, does everything have an audience? Money should be the consequence of the quality of your work. Can your art go unnoticed? Would that matter? Would you stop creating your work because it is not valued?

I will create. The universe will bring the answer. On a sunny morning. It would be sunny as hell. With eight little kids flying a kite. The noise and frothing of someone in agony. Maybe without an ear demanded by a prostitute. A single painting sold, sadly, to a friend. Two thousand paintings to prove the address. Sunflowers and almond blossoms.