Art and music can not ever be sold or bought — only the so called pieces may.
Seen and heard art can not be class bound.
The artist with depth is inherently hungry, just because art and music can not be sold or bought.
When I tremble in emotions, in bolts of clarity, in sudden enlightenment, I feel nervous, anxious, poor, little but I simply need to pace my surroundings back and forth, and create, in sounds, in words, in any language, a dish, a metaphysical goal.
Only then I feel comfortably fragile, pleasantly hungry, and oblivious to strength.