"It's a still life watercolor of a now late afternoon, as the sun shines through the curtain lace and shadows wash the room. And we sit and drink our coffee, couched in our indifference like shells upon a shore you can hear the ocean roar in the dangling conversation, and the superficial sighs, the boarders of our lives. And you read your Emily Dickinson and I my Robert Frost and we note our place with book markers that measure what weve lost...." Simon and Garfunkle
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drawn in 2 hours 1 min
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.
Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.
I like the drawing too-cant wait to see it finished
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I don't think the new background does a whole lot of justice to the piece.
noremac's only saying that because marcello insulted his poetry.
quote the cello:
When I sneeze and it sprays my chest
That's the thing I like the best
It makes me feel like a salamander.
drawn in 1 min
I'm a schizophrenic,
and so am I.
drawn in 25 min
tasteless senryu:
i sleep with the dead.
frequently. they are nice and they
do not bite me.