Words of a painter about art, painting and other thoughts about life, death and things that get in the way.
I love your construction here Annell---
this poem reminds me how in childhood I recall my room being large, and when I once drove past the house of my youth it was just a tiny place, little more than a cottage. But then it was I who was much smaller, and the room much bigger in comparison.
Childhood is everything, good memories!
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