This is one of Eric Sloan's drawings.
Why am I here. In the well house where I fell. In the well house when the grass was wet with dew and the stones were cold. The echo when I whispered "good morning" down the the dark hole came thundering back as across the field a small black something, perched like a statue on the rotting fence rail fell from view into the tall grass. The shadow of the sun peeled through the mist.
Once Started...who knows?
04 March, 2014
21 December, 2013
20 December, 2013
11 December, 2013
05 December, 2013
30 November, 2013
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