

This is reoccurring; I like how it looks, and I like to draw it. The Lines establish a sense of form- a form that looks like houses. I think of favelas. the favelas, or stacked houses remind me of poverty. I think of south america and all the colors. I feel nostalgic. Then think of the suburbs, and how much I hated living out there. Then I think about how favelas are so different from the suburbs even though they are seemingly the same concept. The favelas grow up and resemble mountains inhabited by humans, and they both provide protection. They are colorful, charismatic run by drug dealers, and somehow beautiful. Where as suburbs expand on forever as pasty white rows of confusion. My thoughts could go on forever but then I realize I must stop thinking. because my page is already filled up. and those thoughts are simply thoughts.