The aroma of life puts a paintbrush into my hand, and thus makes my being into the chatter with the light. Yet all miracles come to the end - while writing the descriptions to my pictures, I try to hide myself under the ambiguity of the irony yet the beauty of the metaphorical expressions inadvertently (but inescapably) deal with my bodily experience and thus give birth to the complaints (what for I returned back to life after the head trauma in 1974?) I apologize for these sad notes, dear bloggers.
2 comments:
There is nothing sad about these comments, Tomas. We grow stronger when we can talk openly about the past. Your art gives you strength and joy as it does to those who visit you.
Well done dear friend!
Very beautiful photos
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