i imagine the thick texture sliding across the ridges of my fingerprints. every stroke has become stiff and chunky in its way and the colors melt together without mixing - fat sloppy smudges elegantly placed with precision. glassy glazes deepening the view as if the scene is taking place forever frozen far away, receding from your gaze into the wall; the skyline; history. i love to look at paintings.
pardon my modesty.