A Dantean Vision
There are times, there are times… when the pen answers a call and draws the outlines of its silences, its pauses when what emerges is wholly unexpected and directed. Here’s a river whose spirit is serene, and a world-raptor of knotted fury… or something else, somewhat like this. But the drawing has no story but itself. And the doing of it. And its emergence. Scary or serene.
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