Laughing feels like flying.
I love color and form, I love oil and acrylic painting, also
figure drawing and calligraphic painting: wet, fresh ground ink on animal hair,
that smell.
Being in nature often feels better than being in my house. The air.
The smell of plants after a rain in the afternoon, and its so dry here in Colorado, the atmosphere pulls the moisture right off the ground, even as it lands, not like in Washington where it pooled, and lingered and things begin to ferment and become rich with the returning ocean seeping through them.
Getting into town was like shell shock. So small, so quiet, and I recognize I am affraid of wild animals at night. In washington the clouds came down to us. Here we are risen into the clouds.
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