Life is said to be a journey of compromise. But is it, really? Isn't it more a series of small slow deaths that lead eventually to the big one; the death of dreams, of reasonable expectations, of the fair and equitable actions of others, of romance, of societal cohesion, and near the end, the death even of hope? Is it any wonder we split our psyches so distinctly between our public and our private selves that the latter, as a result of psychic starvation, eventually dwindles and dies. Consider this merely food for thought though it will be neither tender nor particularly palatable. ;) This is a 12 by 16 inch acrylic painting on gallery-wrapped canvas and, most probably, Original Jones Art from Austin, Texas.

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