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5:29 p.m. - 2003-01-28 There is no need to justify feeling, and there is no way to justify reacting to one. I often admire those who can separate their decision process from their emotions, but I also pity the ones, often the same folks, who don�t feel things as much somehow, either by some great force of will or a lack of whatever it is that grants us the ability to find sensation almost physical in what we process through non-physical means. I want to think about this more, I really think it speaks to why the depths of artists and the responsibility of realists are seldom found within one think-piece. I wish I could paint like a motherfucker. Bean has a body that�s recording could only be done justice by means of oil colors on canvas at the hand of a master. All day long she wears clothes that hide it from the world, and even from me, but when she is nude it makes my knees buckle, and I don�t mean from the blood rushing away from my brain. On a non-sexual level. She is stunning. Literally. The way that nature sometimes is when you are suddenly beckoned to pay attention for a moment and get pulled into the reality of being a part of it. She is a woman, but sometimes, she is woman. I see that strength in her. Like she could carry the world if she had to. The nurturing and ferociousness of a mother grizzly, such a gentle touch coming from a core that commands respect. All of this conveyed from the curves of her hips, the shining light and shadows dancing across her brown skin. Plus she�s my buddy ol pal. I hope we hang out together for a long, long time.
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