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I’ve had many thoughts and feelings the past few days. I think a lot of people have. Plenty of anxiety and shock and sadness and fear. But then I started to feel something else. Something bright and sharp, like a newly whetted knife as light gleams off it or the leap of a flame as it catches kindling. It’s not hate. No, hate kills, and I’ve no interest in that. It’s more like purpose, like a certainty.

I’m no great orator. I’m not physically imposing or someone you’d expect to survive a fistfight. But I am a creator.

My words are my weapon. My songs, a balm to the hopeless. I will not be afraid, because I am in the company of the greats, among the artists and creators, the dreamers and music-makers, the movers and shakers.

I will use my stories to tell truths out of lies and to soothe the lost. This isn’t an “if” or a “maybe.” This is what I will do. Rarely am I certain, but of this one thing, I am.

To all those who create, I urge you to keep making your art. Whether it’s songs or fiction, paintings or dance, we must make art. We are the ones who hold up mirrors to the world and reflect all that is good and all that is evil back to it. We are the ones who inspire hope in dark days and light revolutions. We are the ones who change the world.

So creators, be brave! Make art! The world needs us now more than ever.

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