Blue gray, the color is perfect for a dawning day. The oils are soothing and smooth and I fall into it. The brush strokes are like the raking of finger tips, sounds of the the brush and paint in paper awaken my ears. A release from life is made in each inch of the work, a sadness can overtake you from the ending of such pleasure. So painful that a soul can ache from the seperation of its presence. And my eyes get lazy from the movements and my senses are engulfed, because the actions are instinct, they are draining the sins from me. If only temporarily a baptism occurs, it lets everything else fade. The feelings bleed onto the pigments and a beatiful transaction takes place. An while the brush is held by my hands, all weighs are lifted until time returns. The silence of painted canvas can capture my eyes forever and my mind will wander into a dream, or a past, or a memory. Its not just work that I miss, every living, waking day, its an escape.