‘His Words. My moon song’ – Day 16/365 – NFS

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“Sometimes I paint to the sounds of my house. Dog tails wagging against wooden floors. Crickets in the yard. Moth wings on curtains. The whistle of my kettle for the hundredth cup of tea. And then, when I Iong to hear the moon sing, there are the lyrics of Gregory Alan Isakov. Part malady of the heart, part tender poetry. Pure truth.” – Andrea

Artist study. Not for sale.

ORIGINAL COPY POSTED ON INSTAGRAM DURING THE CHALLENGE

Painting every night leaves much room for thinking or series watching.
But sometimes I paint to the sounds of my house. Dog tails wagging against wooden floors. Crickets in the yard. Moth wings on curtains. The whistle of my kettle for the hundredth cup of tea. And then, when I Iong to hear the moon sing, there are the lyrics of Gregory Alan Isakov. Part malady of the heart, part tender poetry. Pure truth.
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“Words mean more at night.
Like a song
And did you ever notice
The way light means more than it did all day long?
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Words mean more at night
Light means more
Like your hair and your face and your smile and our bed and the dress that you wore
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So I’ll send you my words
From the corners of my room
And though I write them by the light of the day
Please read them by the light of the moon”

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⏳3 hours
🎨 from 📷: @mikkolagerstedt

Skills

Posted on

January 16, 2019

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