Close-up murmurs offered are like morsels leading up to the slowly opened door of a cabin nestled in a deep dark forest. One moment when her eyes opened she saw her father floating about the room crying in hopeless grief. Unspoken fits and wild punches before one last heaving sigh.
painting: Morphine(1894)
Santiago Rusiñol
posted by phil at 12:10 PM
phil
wandering
39° 44' N
86° 17' W
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This blog dedicated to my father and mother.
view my character sketch...
All original designs and text created by the author of this blog, Phil L., are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike3.0 License. All other materials remain the property of their respective owners and/or creators, unless of course they are part of the public domain.
1 Comments:
Powerful piece, Phil.
(hope it isn't a willow cabin)
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