“We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art – we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.”
— Anaïs Nin

 

I look at a painting of a boy running into the waters. Behind him is a half-finished sand castle and a bemused father.The sky is that unreal shade of blue that memory gives all sunny days. The next painting shows the same boy a few years later. He is seated in the back seat of the car and he has a sarcastic smirk on his face. He is styling with his clothes and his hair yet he doesn’t want his friends to see him with his parents. It would be uncool. The next painting shows a teenager, suitcase in hand slamming the door. He is angry and there is a finality in his expression. Through the window of the door, you can see his parents distraught faces. The next painting shows a wedding and the teenager now in his twenties is smiling tho his eyes and his smile are only for his beloved. The last picture echoes the first tho the bemused father in this case was the boy in the first as he watches his daughter run towards the waves. Funny how from the middle picture one could never guess either the first two or the last two but the story continues in its cycle.
Blessings, G

 

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Three of TigersThree of Tigers by G A Rosenberg

 

Matched FrequencyMatched Frequency by G A Rosenberg