Give me my raw umber crayon and let me scribble the lines of naked trees into the glare of the white paged water. In a fleeting moment the quivering ripple falls to foam... the image intact until I turn to leave.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Reflections on a Crayon
Give me my raw umber crayon and let me scribble the lines of naked trees into the glare of the white paged water. In a fleeting moment the quivering ripple falls to foam... the image intact until I turn to leave.
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