autumn promised nothing.
but rolling in light
wading in deep
breakfasting on color.
it's an altogether new sensation fumbling into oils without a box of soap to stand on - consumed simply by the changing light we're gifted.
no message this series - just study. just light play. deep breath and color and a need to get closer; forefinger finds her in the sound. brushwork's winter's challenge. gotta get in and get dirty before the light changes. ahtumn.