Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune. Something to make us all happy.
That line doesn't mean what it used to. I honestly don't know what it used to mean to me but I knew just enough to know that it meant something. Was it merely a case of waiting to find something, a feeling maybe, to attach it to? My brain works that way sometimes. It catalogs phrases and images for later reference, not unlike how it took me years of hunting and gathering life experience to even come close to understanding books I read over thirty years ago.
It's only struck me that recently that Dear Mr. Fantasy implies that "us all" are pretty damn miserable if they're imploring someone to take them out of the gloom. They're not just hanging out there biding their time. They're looking for a way out.
Live and learn (another catchphrase that's gathered meaning as time passes).
So then there's this, a photo by an artist that makes no bones about feelings, or the desire to be without them, and artist who just goes there and goes in deep. Skin deep. This is a jarring image. There is no description really and one might like to believe that the imprint of the letters is the gift of Photoshop. I think I'd like to believe that but then there is the other voice in my head hoping that it is real. Hoping that someone would actually go there. Morbid curiosity. I could write the artist but maybe I'll stick with the doubt. Not everything has to be named and/or explained. Sometimes it's better to just sit in the feelings.