The View

No, not the estro-fest television show, but the one out my window.  You’d think this would be celebrating it, but it’s not.  I know, here’s where you pull out the smallest violin player in the world to play, “Oh, I feel sorry for you,” but we moved here in October of last year and I don’t want to live here anymore.  I LOVE the ocean.  And I feel twisted having a view like that and wanting nothing but to move out.  But we all need more than just a view, and I feel it more every day, so I made this journal page about it.  You can see words painted in clouds if you really, really look (and especially if you look at where I’ve cropped the page to show them.)

The painting is acrylic in my Book of Days journal (matting added by Picasa for effect):

And here is the wispy wording:

“A beachfront house does not a home make.”  Yes, pull out the tissues.