MEDIUM: Acrylic on canvas
Time is all but a memory. Peace is all but time within that memory. The passing of a leaf in the steam, the far-away rowing of uncanny boatmen with their own stories to tell, a casserole full of food that my mother cooked, and a painting full of colors that my mother painted for me. I’ll remember this as a past I have lived. I remember the smell of the dying roses, the sight of ripening watermelons, and the story of the River Goddess that the boatmen told in all their charm.