I thought these lines would be the skeleton, to which I’d add pencil lines of many details. But it looked finished and full of mystery.
If I saw a big painting like this in a museum, I’d be very enthusiastic. I’d stop, breathless, right there and take a picture, write the painter’s name, add the date..
Then I’d look him/her up in Google and probably see more samples of his/her work. Then I’d know that he/she is a favorite of mine. I’d follow him/her from that time on.
Maybe I’d meet with him/her one day and he/she would laugh, because he/she is in me always.
And I had to go to the museum and search in Google, for what has forever lived in me.
Or maybe I have lived in it?
intuitiveflow 