Darkness

With eyes closed, fingers in paint, and, wanting to color highlight to the taste, are strokes in the canvas longing and affection, trying to pass a breathing pulse. What happens - MiG, trees, desert here, there be black water. And no colors of imagination all combined, everything is close. As always! When a picture smells like the picture in the head, finished the story, you eyes lose the scarf: on your toes - clay, and malberti demon portrait. I just can't thank all forgotten, leaving. they do not swear, do not reproach - betrayed and unreal. Let the why at the forefront the needles look? there's an angel over the edge? I remember - to each his own, but "its not" I forget. Agus Lex 09.02.2019