satelite of D

It is not possible to paint a picture and place yourself in it. The colors never match and the paint is always wet and moving. The pleasure of the piece gets taken away by wear as the colors get sucked from their original source; the negative energy; the satelite of destruction always becomes the primary. The picture must be painted in such a way as to encompass sweat and tears with years and years of trial and error. This cannot be done with any real success other than simple time and realization mixed with the knowledge that we are destined to be exactly and precisely either a success in the social context or a success in the private context. There is no both. What is success anyway? Who decides? I saw a beautiful woman working at a department store. She was altered by a disease. She was shy about it. She need not be around me, I have good satelites anyone can see. My picture is ongoing yet sporadic. There can be no other way.