the ship

it couldn't take me anywhere i couldn't already walk to, but somewhere within its boundaries was the potential that all art, at least the creative act, is possessed of. Friends and family marvelled at its ludicrous nature and ramshackled appearance, but it was not them that it worked its magic but I. It represented an empty space that was filled, with wood, bedroom linen, screws and gaffa tape. It was anything it needed to be, it was every artwork ever created. Sounds crazy, perhaps, they did lock me up soon after. Maybe you'd agree. (expletives).