A prose kind of weekend? Well, so it is.
Black and white. They seem basic, don’t they? What is “they” and why do we have these opposite ends of the spectrum? Are they friends or foes, these black and white lines?
Musings, weekend musings, do come to my mind. Prose, anyone?
The black and the white do move together, spectrums of light that dance with grace and diligence. I watch the waltzing lines, the black cascading over the white lines, and the dipping of black is silky as chocolate sauce Read the rest of this entry