The hackers didn’t overcome me – Butterfly in Plaster still looks to you.
Life experience discovers itself in a fall. The colors of the leaves are talking loudly by transforming into the ugly porridge on a street that doesn’t attract the passersby. The beauty disguises as the employer to the cleaners who are the feeders of the artists who are proud of signing this mess as the fine arts.
As I was taking the pictures, the wedding party went in my town. While I examined the objects underfoot, the bridegroom carried his bride over the bridge in his hands. Now my photo enables me to relive that anew. The Arts wake up our memories, and we rejoice over the reading of the personal experiences in the pictures at a showroom , yet even the best paintings fail to substitute the choices we made for a better picks.
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Colors always attract us, allure to follow their stories. So I became the eyewitness of the challenging picture above. The stick underfoot caught my eye, yet what should my reaction be? Should I enjoy the view, or pick up the derelict to throw it to the dustbin in order the garden could please the eye of each?
While dealing with the eternities the light met the changing morality…
As I started to paint, the heart on the easel was my only goal and the main value of the artistic canvas. Unfortunately the modern world understands just market language. Thus my schooling is suitable only to …the mental hospitals.
As I look at the photo I enjoy not my digital painting but the memories that comfort the heart by offering to look at my zero bank account as a test of my fitness to forthcoming dawn.
I know a lot of English words. They vibrate with joy, yet just silence fills my posts. Digital watercolor “summer rain” testifies for my being. Knowing what should be done and doing that are two different things.
my pictures help me to locate my place in the daily hustle. The eternal truths interpret my eyesight and thus transform what’s at hand into the trusty road-stick. That’s the whisper of the air. Please read the full story here…
The sunbeam was my riding horse, so we have experienced a lot: while viewing the puddles, we rejoiced over the reflections of the heaven underfoot. The photo on above belongs to my storage stories. I see them as my teachers (such as: Dont be sad blog , Help Others and many-many more) thus the picture shares the light. This memory heals (makes the past into the present time that defines tomorrow) transform my complaints for the current hardships into the greetings of my artwork.