And I was burning,. My blood hot and brow sweaty. But no one was there. I look at the glass of wine on the kitchen table. The evening light barely illuminates the room as the sun fades out in desolation over the horizon. The liquid is a rich red, and it sits patiently at the bottom of the glass. It smiles, warm and welcoming but I know it is a hoax; far too pristine to be genuine. We stare at each ot. I think the thing tha.

Occasionally illuminating thoughts from a moderately successful painter. Wednesday, January 28, 2015. I write this as I recuperate from surgery for a broken ulna which has left my arm looking and feeling like it was beaten with a mallet until the person beating it became bored with the project. Lesson in mortality - January 23, 2015. As a kind of bal.

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Saturday, August 29, 2009. Monday, July 20, 2009. And there are no tears, just pity and fear. 1 free death cab show courtesy of channel 104. 2 getting lost on summer nights. 4 summer retreat at mission springs.