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| One of my favorites. Prints available. |
I miss water. The kind that laps up the sand, tickling feet. The kind that has a roar or a hush. A definite, defiant rhythm. Sometimes, it feels as though my heart is beating in time to waves. The sound tugs at me, willing me closer.
I lived near a beach and ocean for exactly 3 years of my
life — Miami Beach, San Francisco and Virginia Beach — and I loved being close
to the water.
Living here in this landlocked city of 4 million, sometimes
I forget what I’m missing. But I do miss it.
I want a studio on water, overlooking a lake, pond, or even
the ocean or everglades. In the highest bit of the house. Perhaps I get there by taking a
spiral staircase, or going up through a trap door with a ladder. A studio with
pillows and wall hangings, filled with paint, and light and fun. Easels and
brushes and brightness. Inspiring paintings, sayings, mood boards, place post
cards, surrounding me when I’m there. And a large table on which I work. But
floor room to dance, and move and sing and play.
And windows to open so I can hear the water.
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