Did you ever, as a little girl, dance with your father? You know. He held your hands, you placed your feet on each of his, and he waltzed you around the room. Remember? As you grew, he steadied you on … Continue reading →
From Plutarch: Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.
Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Join 605 other followers