Walking
barefoot.
I hear the cracks
I hear the brush
touching the canvas.
I just close my eyes
and I can see all the colors,
his soul
Monet painting.
If you could imagine
just imagine
his dirty fingers with paint
you would love art
like I do
and possibly understand
what it is not supposed to be understood.
I see everything
in every little square of color
the paintor’s tears of gratitude
for everyone being here
today
tomorrow
and forever.
Photo by: Luise Arosteguy
