Everything is blurry.
Loud voices batter and crash, harsh sounds that make no sense, crackling and breaking into shards of words lying in discarded heaps. With each sound she is buried deeper.
She cannot process the sound or color, since it is something too chaotic to absord. She cannot understand much speech, nor can she find the words to express the pain and fear. She is alone.
She is emotionally naked, exposed, vulnerable, confused, helpless.
Buried deeper and deeper in a cacophony of noise, waiting, hoping, she shuts her eyes and wonders.
How long will it take before I finally disappear?
Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.