There is an empty place within me where my heart once was.
Doing fine, thank you, I would say, never knowing how to talk about what I do. If I could talk about it, I would not have to do it. I make art, sometimes I make true art, and sometimes it fills the empty places in my heart. Some of them. Not all.
I make art, sometimes I make true art, and sometimes it fills the empty places in my life. Some of them. Not all.
A wasteland is a confrontation to a man of stature: an empty place, a gauntlet thrown down in challenge and defiance. A place like that cries out to be conquered and civilised.
By my existence I am nothing more than an empty place, an outline,that is reserved within being in general. Given with it, though, is the duty to fill in this empty place. That is my life.
There's eyes behind the mirrors in empty places.
Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.