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Saturday, April 14, 2012

swamped by memories

I feel overwhelmed. There seems no hope to right the wrongs, change the past, and do things better. I feel paralyzed and drowning. My breathing is shallow, my eyes leak. Surely, as the pen moves across the page again and again, it begins to fade, and it dries up. I am the only one able to continue. Painting doesn't change anything. In the end I grasp the truth of where I stand.

paper, paint, ink

Thanks Pam
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