There are some who are keen to control, to be in control, knowing what's going on. Then there is the other character type, which is able to devote themselves to the extent that one loses control. This man drops out and hope that it is soil where he lands.
I do not enjoy as much as before, although I paint a few hours each day. And I forget a lot. But there is also good, in a sense, so I will not have to fill my head with so much. And I'm not talking as much as before. He smiles, the quiet little smile, looking me deep into my eyes with a strong look.
The feminine. The sensuous. A picture of three horses. . Where are we now. Mother, father and I in the background. I was born of a horse, but I was not a horse. My sister was my horse. I was her head and will. It has been almost an obsession. I have always painted horses. It has been almost an obsession. Where did my horse go. Why did she leave me.