Colors of my dreams
I've had weeks of painting since we bought our house. Rhinestone, Light French Gray, Oragami White - these are the colors of my dreams. I'm a ghost in coveralls, bibs too big for me, hand-me-downs from the elder Tomazic, larger than life. There's a Zen in painting, long, slow rolls of the brush, up and down. I'm tuned into the electromagnetic pulse of the radio waves playing in another room. I'm painting a waveform. I'm painting S Town, John B McLemore, immortilizing him on the walls. As the sun wanes, as the house heats up, as hunger rumbles, I gather the pup and leave, back to the little old rental on Rogerson. Just a couple more weeks, and we'll be in the new house for good.
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