Sometimes there aren't words. Sometimes, what is in my head is molten. It burns out the chatter and everything that doesn't matter.
I float in it, slowly moving. I feel it. I want rest in it.
I can paint from it and the paintings are different. Those paintings are not meant to inspire, but to be felt. They are the paintings that I have a harder time sharing.
Is the moon full yet?
No comments:
Post a Comment