...in the air of many fans I paint anyways, piling the brush strokes towards the emotional pitch I can taste in my flesh but not explain with my tongue.
Meanwhile Feather curls and melts into the sheets on the massage table...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Hot Light
The sun pounds through the glass, pierces the shadows and obliterates any cool thoughts in ones blood...
...in the air of many fans I paint anyways, piling the brush strokes towards the emotional pitch I can taste in my flesh but not explain with my tongue.
Meanwhile Feather curls and melts into the sheets on the massage table...
...in the air of many fans I paint anyways, piling the brush strokes towards the emotional pitch I can taste in my flesh but not explain with my tongue.
Meanwhile Feather curls and melts into the sheets on the massage table...
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