Now that it’s fall, I hope you’ve found yourselves again.
I’ve never floated in the sea at night, but I can imagine this is what it feels like.
I choose myself. What a radical idea.
The penultimate line of this micro-story destroyed me.
Sometimes it’s nice to observe all the things that are happening in a painting. For example in this one: Is the man taking an afternoon nap? Who is that letter from? Who is the person standing on the other side of the room, as reflected in the back of the lamp? With his harlequin blanket, is he the jester in the window?
Something about the proportions of this painting gives me an enormous sense of comfort. Maybe it’s the happy couple dancing across the hall or the oversize bed or the vase of tulips, drooping just so.
What a woman finds about herself after drawing a self-portrait every day.
What a boy learns about the meaning of life at the end of a long train ride.
A whole entire painting made just so you can notice the rose in the window.
Some little things from me