You can’t see it right now, but hovering right above your head, there’s a small, tornado-like elephant’s trunk beaming into your mentals. That cyclone absorbs a constant influx of thoughts, scents, conversations, mishaps, and pleasures. We internalize and process these stimuli differently, and thus we radiate different vibrations outward into our surroundings. We embrace these rhythms at the synapses in our brain, the tingling nerves at our fingertips…  …much like the rush of life that floods into your bloodstream with a deep breath, that which only magnifies as you slowly exhale… We share different components of the same engine, yet I cannot tell you everything I want to. I find I can better express my inner ruminations and provocations with a canvas than a turn of phrase. A stare into canvas is a snapshot into my dimensions. I trade diction and syntax for lines and color. I submit to the universe, and in return the universe embodies my every breath- my every step. With the flow of each stroke, I shout to the skies.