It was too hot for thinking straight that day, so I puttered in the studio and wrote about this new piece. Forgive the silliness. I should probably not even post, but then, why not. You can probably relate.
Acrylic inks, pencil, gesso, collage from an old alphabet book, etc.
F is for Fear that sends me running when someone points a Finger for even Flimsy reasons.
F is for Frozen – on a day like today, the ice cubes in my tea for the second before they melt.
F is for Famous, which I may never be for more than a Fleeting day and certainly wouldn’t want to be for more than a Fortnight.
F is for Foremost, the thing I overlook when rushing into the Fray of the day.
F is for Fooey! and Fiddlesticks! and this F—-’n poem which may be headed for the Trash (which isn’t even an F word!)