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The bigger the fame, the smaller the freedom.

When I made my first million, they called me the greatest artist of my

When galleries started offering me a million for a greasy diner napkin with

lipstick on it, they tore me apart.

When the panic attacks got worse, I told everyone I just needed a

break out of town.

I found myself a lovely little house in the middle of nowhere.

But even then,

I knew I wasn't coming back to the city.

No idea why, I just felt it.

The air, the silence.

Even the creepy gardener felt familiar, like I'd been here before.

Okay, maybe not the gardener.

The perfect place to drown in self -reflection and bury myself in endless

The only thing missing here was inspiration

And

the lack of inspiration always makes me bored

I was bored.

Maybe that's why I decided to play with this creature.

Or maybe, deep down, I already knew there was something between us.

Something more than just shared territory.

He was alone.

I was searching for solitude.

That meant that despite our differences, we breathed the same air, floating in

the same endless empty space.

Call me old -fashioned, but that was the moment my soul cracked open.

And out of that crack poured every last drop of rot and despair the city had

filled me with.

Its money. Its politicians.

Its business.

Its filth.

He cried like a child.

I cried because he understood me.

Because he accepted me as I was before I became a famous artist.

He was like an old, crumpled tube of paint.

And with that paint, I was going to create my masterpiece.

And I did.

What?

What?

Mm -hmm

um um

Mm -hmm.

Thank you.

um um

um um

um um

Mm -hmm.

Mm -hmm.

Mm -hmm.

Uh -huh.

um um um

Thank you.

oh oh oh

um um

I don't know

Boom.

Hmm.

Uh...

oh oh

um um

oh oh

Oh, my God.

I P 4 K.