I’m a Work of Art

Too many people have put effort into this work of art— my mother and father, and their mothers too. With tiny brushstrokes, everyone has added something. I am a work of art. It’s in the way I laugh, in the way I sing like my mother does, in the paintings I love, the travels I dream of, the music that plays in my heart— just like in my father’s. I am a work of art, shaped by many hands. But I’ve also painted myself. I am a work of art— and so are you.