I love old wrinkled faces. So much story behind each line and shadow, like an intricate map of their life. Where they have been. What they have done. How much did they smile. How much have they hurt. All to share with a young face searching for the right path.
Alison Newey
My Daily Paint
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Tranquil
Laugh Scream Cry
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Crying Breast
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Embracing Imperfection
I notice the dirt underneath my feet as it gently snuggles against my flesh, inviting me to become the earth for a moment. I inhale the environment, filling my lungs with the minerals that have been at rest, like me. I can taste it's life as it transitions into blood and replaces my emptiness. I feel alive.
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