So, a look inside my open brain today has these squiggly ameba thoughts all piled around like a jumble sale. My head..... a vintage car with the trunk open. No rhyme or reason to it. Picture this inside:
A cropped picture of Michelangelo's ~ God's hand reaching for Adam's, wanting to sketch it.
A 3 masted sailboat, wanting to live on it.
A leather bound James Stalker book, wanting to read it.
Rhubarb, wanting to make a pie with it.
Sand in my toes, wanting to feel it.
Talking to the little bushman in "The God's Must Be Crazy", wanting fresh thoughts.
Really old, saggy, baggy real people doing water aerobics, splashing each other. Wanting to be playful.
Wondering how to carve an alabaster box. Wanting to feel it, touch it, experience it.
All stuck together with a glug of music-opera, jazz, blues, folk, rock........
That's all ~ it's not crowded at all, want to join me? And I'm not on drugs, I promise! Although, my family could be getting concerned over how many paper flowers I'm making.
It's cheap, theraputic and colorful; don't try to stop me or I'll shoot you with my dart gun.
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