In essence, most people (myself included) agree on the idea that “any product, construct, thing” that comes from the realm of the mind to reality, and makes us feel “something”, is what makes art, art. Anything that makes us experience feelings, thoughts, and emotions to reaffirm the idea of our existence, for we are human beings, filled with the drive to channel our energy in something that makes us feel alive, such as what is written, in this piece of paper.

Todas las personas somos igualmente personas, que las otras personas. ¿Por qué dejamos que nos hagan creer que podemos descifrar a alguien solo por cómo se ve? Un individuo, o colectivo, no son solo un color, ni una prenda de ropa, ni un accesorio, ni una posesión, ¡somos mucho más que eso!

They fight as if they were infinite, provoked by the wrath of their past. Oh men, please listen; the time to bicker must pass. One particularly fascinating aspect of this reality is how their wide landscapes remain

We, human beings, are made by and from the same matter. We're people, made from people, and in the immensily complex fabric of time and space, our existence represents a teeny tiny piece of the universe (someday I'll delve into the cosmic calendar, another time perhaps.) Why do we let others make us think that we can know a person based on how they look? A person isn't a color, nor are they a garment, an object, or a posession. We're so much more than that!

So my take is: "don't try to make people up, dare the know them!"