I painted a picture, I painted freedom, Believe me a first-person point-of-view, hair blowing across my eyes, overlooking an amber plane, sand dunes without dunes, the sky hits the sand on the horizon. The sky is the colour of paper, painted over paper. Perhaps we are under-water, the strands that cross our eyes are weeds that never tangle – grasses that do nothing but breathe and float in concert with any movement we make through the planes. If we wanted to move at all. There are no edges, it continues in every direction until all that we can see is the back of our heads. Nothing. No faces. Nothing. No obstacles, except for the lack of any thing. No thing. I painted nothing.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Jun 2013 02:59:25 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015