Painter and writer. ✡
Jew by blood, Amine Batbouti was born in the Grand Casablanca in the late 80’s destiny had led her for an arrival in Canada in the early 90’s where the remaining of her childhood memories had her creeping into the Italian neighbourhood of Montreal, QC.
Living in the suburb area of Montréal. She has a definite love for painting, and writing. She’s also very fond in the studies of the Torah and Kabbalah, in the appreciation of the classical genres and antiques, and in the beauty of the sober aesthetics.
Year 2012, her mind lures off on a strange set of boxed art tools and pencils resting silently on a coffee table. In 2015, she drew her first portraits. In 2016, an empty notebook was undergound. Her words couldn’t be held down anymore, and she started writing. In 2017, she started painting.
Self-taught. She has strong values in justice and the law of nature where life & death is a healthy process of manifestation. She believes in the animal welfare and the human rights.
Her natural body scent smells like a mix of vanilla ice cream and honey.
To the addressees, experts, and professionals who had helped, saved, and supported me in my journey; “Thank you.” To my biological mom and dad; “Mourn me not for I have spent a lifetime in doing just so.”
The bell rings as one grows. The cloak shrinks. The holes rip and the skin shows.
People forget your mistakes but in return they would never forgive you for success.
I live inside the dark where it is neither right nor wrong.
I don’t believe in suicide. “But why,” it is because I hate cheaters.
Trust in life, and for the rest that is up to you for better or worse.
Be your own inspiration; absolutely and selfishly so that your expression is forever yours.
They kicked me up with hopes and wishes to sit me down—I had done very well at being a good patient.
The downfall of an artist begins when they start to let go of being themselves.
In my roots be secure that I won’t be let down for which us belong to the above and beyond.
People are going to laugh. They first laughed at my name for I was born a writer.
Given the proper support, anyone who tries very hard in a field can be good at it. However, why would you live up the dream of someone else life’s purpose.
If all the gossips and rumours slandered about me had been true then I wouldn’t have made it—and I have fucking made it.
Raised by an unloving mother and father—and I am shedding no tears.
Strong people are living their lives whereas the weak, at the bottom of the food chain, are looking to sue you for it.
An empty shell forms; 0-4 months. A soul incarnates the fetus; 4-7 months. An infant is created; 7-9 months. Dodge a bullet, or forever bite it.
What science can or cannot prove a mystery; nature had been, is, and will always be.
Anything that you sacrifice for the sake of love is never an evidence of love—bitch, I keep my name.
Their is another religion, sect, and government who treat their people as slaves and cattle. And they have been eating and drinking.
The ink on my body have been purposefully chosen based on raw and gross forms which can only be then deciphered by the self. A forever dialect unbeknownst to others.
Dare not hate nor mock of my image for which I didn’t come unto this world without.
I do not strive to become famous, popular, or loved by the world—I have better things to do.