Cracks and fissures run through
sad circular box holding uninspired shades,
quenched and seeking life
little drops to feed the drive
to survive and become whole.
We use our tools at hand
spinning and moving, bringing forth life
pushing out in sweeping strokes
masterpiece of thought birthed
on wet sheets waiting.
Thoughts on the watercolor box I’m about to crack open and use. Practice, practice and then more 🙂 I’m always amazed how the colors dry up and look as if they’re dead, parched. Just add water and voila, play time ❤ and no, this image is not mine….I wish I were that good ❤