tiny

She was a tiny thing, shivering against the windowpane. She loved to watch the rain fall. She didn’t mind being small, in this world this was all it was. Rivers traced by small fingertips, against the glass so thin, she had pressed her lips. Her hot breath fogged the pane and she drew with careful … More tiny

Color

I have been away, painting has called me. Ideas pulling my thoughts down a path of paintbrushes and wooden canvases. My voice becomes silent as my words become color. Good times.