I like coffee (black and without sugar) Therefore its overspill was like an intimate bereavement. The sludge captivated me, tacked my eyes to the table. The spillage looked so attractively, thus I took a photo and...discovered myself in the picture. The last made the dirty table into the artwork – the scruff became the artist.
|The Survivor - according to Tomas Karkalas|
While listening to insights, my visions obtained the words, and the colors received the need to respond- the need to quit the silence was produced.
Though some wrinkles on the surface appeared, but beauty of the flower was fortified - not something that withered up, but the survivor looks at you from the canvas now.