The stroke of a brush cleaner
Not the other but one. If we felt brave enough to throw into the arms of the painting, then we know that at first the brush is awkward between our fingers. But there comes a time when after long hours of work, art seems to take pity on us and allowed to graze. So when you least expect it slides down your arm a gentle movement that flows into the brush and drag it on paper, resembling a seagull in flight low over the waves. We can hear the caress. It is then that surprised look down and see the result. We naively color as the groove of swelling increases for water, forming a ridge on the blade carnival. Before us, a little shaky and shocked is a long, strong and beautiful line. To the top is curved but lost in a line that promises to infinity. Their color depends on your destination. To the untrained eye might seem like more, like any other, but one does not. We recognize the very moment you are born, we know that is promising. As with our children, we know that parimos to be something big. We invade the ambition, gluttony, mouth-watering imagining that come out of it. What we can do with that gift? With that big first step has been granted.
When we are so clouded is better to take away, we decide to give us time to think better than we do with that inescapable stroke ahead of us. But with friends in the street, in the movies, sleeping, anywhere, until we are working on that line, take your fire within us. Sometimes to exaggerate and take the paper with his big smile to our room, and lying in bed looking at it, looked again, we turn not daring to touch up, he smiled so blessed and we fall asleep, happy.
She is there still, even a little insignificant. But we know that is a strange cocoon, inside which boils the entire universe. And one can not help feeling a little angst to realize that it is in their hands the ability to create something beautiful. It's just a clean line on paper, but we haunts and seduces us and the abyss. Miriam Trejo Respite just to feel the smell of oil. I only dazzling carmín.Solo I have ears for music and hands to the brush.