Art. Sleep. Life
Missed Connections from Chicago
Art
Sometimes I love it, Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes I am infuriated by it, Sometimes I am saddened by it. Sometimes I just want to paint over it.
Sleep
Remember when we used to meet up in the morning to do whatever, mainly just be in each others company, and we would stay up all night, waiting, waiting, wanting… something.
Life
my thoughts lead me back to you. You haven’t been open in quite a while. You are probably moved on. Good. I have seen the light.
I used to make you smile. You used to make my heart sing.
Her Two Cents
In the backyard of my former home there was a grove of tall spindly trees. Clustered close, their lichen-covered bark was a deep purplish brown with a texture like thick paint – full of tiny peaks and valleys and begging to be touched by fingertips. These trees had only a few branches, high high up in the sky, and the slightest rain or snow storm would send them swaying, and sometimes, crashing down. Twisted and crooked like their roots below, the branches were surprisingly light and gave me the appearance of super-human strength when clearing them from the ground. I’ve never had much inclination to paint images, real or imagined, but I would want to paint those trees. There isn’t much I miss about that former home, but I miss those trees.
