I seem to want to draw swirling rising high on a dark night. Sketchs of bigger paintings I may never do. When I start to fade with tiredness in the week, my ambition wanes. I spend my time tasting my coffee. I miss the smells of the underground. The etheral feeling of another world. The lights of cars in front, winding far into the distance in the middle of nowhere. Heading to work.
May this be a wonderful day.
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