I’ve been thinking about this. I know an artist who is disabled. I’m not sure what he has, I just know that he has a lot of trouble with fine motor skills and speaking. Just his articulation doesn’t work but the words are there in his mind. Keyboards are hard for him too. I know because at one time we tried giving him a laptop at the bar to see if we could get him to join the conversation better. It was still hard for him to hit the correct keys without hitting those around them (do they make over sized keyboards? I don’t even know) but it was going much better because in the group were people who didn’t know him and hadn’t learned to translates the sounds he does make to how the sounds are ‘supposed’ to sound. The smile on his face that he could join in on what was really just bullshit smalltalk was both heartwarming and heart breaking.

What he can do, is paint. Just the most beautiful expressive paintings. That’s his voice. He’s telling the world these huge, moving ideas and overwhelming emotions and most stand there in wonder.

Before that evening it had never really occurred to me how important small trivial thoughts can be to a life.

Writer of fiction, blogs and erotica. Frequency in that order. Popularity in reverse.

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