pastel shell on textured paper

I’ve been spending my days and nights at the beach.  There’s a beach in my mind and along its shores, sea shells float upon the incoming tide and are deposited on the still life table where they pose majestically while sitting among a variety of brightly colored cloths.

And I stare at them.  And they would perhaps stare back at me, except that the mollusk has long since flown the coop.

So I contemplate them.  At long last I will frame the drawings, and send them back into the ocean of the world, where they can float into someone else’s consciousness and bask in the gaze of a mollusk-mesmerized spectator.  And mollusk magic will hold sway. Again.

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