Looking at the still life flowers from where I sit, how will I ever get back to them, to finish their painting?  I see the lights and darks differently — or I should say, they seem new to me looking at them now.  This mood, the pen, sitting in a different location, having been away from them a long time.  What I was thinking recently about Matisse regarding landscape one could attempt with these flowers:  do versions, let yourself take greater liberties.

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