I like these words, so predictable yet soothing.
It is rocking gently
Up and down, like the rhythm of my own breath.
The sail boats on the horizon
Light like feathers.
The bright sunlight in my eyes
Blurring my sight.
Everything appear hazy
Like a part of a dream
Or a mirage.
The description.
Every trip calls for a description. Some inner thoughts, for sure, and the landscapes that at times assume a quality of a drawing. Offering the reader a picture of what is being seen.
So what kind of visual artist am I?
The one who draws the scenery so accurately that the end result is like a photo? Or the one who inject enough of himself, to color the obvious landscape with unique shades, and make it his own and unlike anyone else's.
I have to avoid the clichés, and the obvious, and expose a less apparent angel.
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