Puzzle piece
If only I could go back and pick up all the fallen puzzle pieces of me that have slipped out of a hole in my pocket into the gutter or along a forest hike or mid-way through an argument or around the corner from a gilato shop in Italy or on the boardwalk in San Diego or behind a pile of Legos or under the floor mat in a beat up, red Ford Fiesta with rebar instead of a stick shift or inside an old purse that still smells of amber and cinnamon... well, if I could find all those pieces, those thoughts, those experiences, those late night conversations and bits of me and put them together right now, I think I might have it made. But as it is, it doesn't seem my life will let me do that. I forget the nuances in the experiences as I move to the next one. This is how it is to age. Instead, I recall bits of my past life at the darndest times. Sometimes everything comes back in a flood and it overwhelms me with a sense that I have tripped into some magical state.
My subconscious assures me it won't let go of anything, but it is the waking life that yearns to recall everything on a whim.The following are little pieces of a larger painting which I decided I could not let go entirely to the dumpster. More puzzle pieces, if you will. Instead, they will become studies for other works:
Have a wonderful day, whatever you do.
Comments
Even when rediscovered, sometimes there is just too much distance between where I am now to go back and put them in their place.
Isn't that the truth.
Thanks for your comment. Hope all is well with you.
;-)
Back from holliday, I discover your last works. I really love those two and your words find an echo in me.
Take kare XX
So good to hear from you and thank you for the kindness.
xo,
C