1:55 p.m. - 2001-12-13
painting
When confronted with a great painting, my lips part slightly (not to allow egress for some arrogant critical pronouncement, as was the case in my youth, but) to make way for my heart...which I feel struggling to fly up and out of its wretched cage.
Struggling in a futile attempt to join the state of framed perfection set before it.
