Matthew Wong died before I could discover him

That may not be entirely accurate.  I guess I could have discovered him before but for whatever reason I didn’t.  He died a few months after my last trip to Amsterdam. I was mired in my own loss so I don’t think I was looking outward towards any other life and their suffering.  His art was profound and pressured and pointed and hit me in a perfect place today.  As I was listening to someone narrate his impressions of Matthew the narrator Simon Heijmans said something to the effect that he felt like an old friend to Matthew, one he knew would never respond again and it was hard for him to figure out how to interact given what had transpired.  But that he needed to be grateful for the time that he was able to have with his old friend.  If you are in Amsterdam, I would highly recommend checking out the exhibit on Matthew’s work.  I spent nearly all of my time there today immersed in the beauty and heartache that was present.  And as I have been having to relearn over and over, my wants don’t overrun the facts of life.  I’ve had my exes for a season or two but when they are gone, I need to stop lamenting and begin more of a gratitude journey that they saw something in me that allowed us to spark even briefly.  As I prepare to leave the city again, it’s less about what I loss and more about connecting to spaces and places again.  Eating and drinking better food.  Adding two new tattoos to my total which should be enough but fuck that.  Getting more done the next time I come even if it’s just some updated versions of what I got now.  Life and love are entirely too precious for me to wallow in whatever it is I do not have.  I have a good life and for that I am grateful.  And Matthew Wong’s Van Gogh esque life reminded me of that today.

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