This week has sucked for writing and posting. I have written. I just never got anything finished enough to post. I suppose it’s hard for you to tel the difference between me being done enough and me not being done enough. Trust me, I haven’t been done enough.
This isn’t done either but that twinge of guilt for not keeping you in the loop forces me to get something out there. I suspect I should not have spent as much time at this site as I did before composing what follows…
Moana smeared purple paint on the canvas with her thumbs. She focused on the buttery feel of the oil paint giving way to the coarse weave of the stretched canvas more than the shape of either stroke.
With this much virgin white space before her she felt playful and inventive and bold.
Word count: 141