The nature of sorrow often fades over time, but once in a while it remains lodged below the surface of things, a stubborn thorn under a fingertip, making itself felt every time you brush against it.The years galloped past, flowing onward like the waters of a river, disappearing never to return, on this day, it had been three or maybe five years. I did not keep track of time anymore. But the beauty of the bright spring sunshine, rejoiced with blossoms and the song of birds, brought nostalgia to my heart.I brushed another paint stroke against the canvas. Purple was my favorite color, but now I had grown to love red. Red was vibrant and strong. Red was the color of blood and life.In the garden under the spring sun, the portrait was taking shape, a beautiful shape of a woman I loved and
Last Updated : 2021-06-25 Read more