All but once. The infamy. What’s at stake? For a while now the figures have been pure. This summer I started using photographies as brushes. Look and you shall find! The evil centennial tribute in these are all but clear. A vision near. A dreary cohersion of lizard walking diamond skies. The property of denial. The passion of guests. To draw with certainty. As I never know what’s next. The plead is not of guilt but of curiousity. There is a chance you could not draw the same.
Here I am it’s sunday and the coffee is ready. Angels are dancing on my desk and I find purity in the unmasked distance of time. A cherade the invincible procured maze of distance. Every inch of cascading dynamic light. There should be clouds. What you see in them. Perhaps I’ll make something on light. Early theories of light. In which the epic rumours of an eternal darkness in which we all swarm appears. This ain’t logic. There must be a reason. Art without reason. Such a shame!