Monday, February 22, 2010

Birch trees in the room. Strie as a background.

I love trees, feel like flat brushes leading my hand themselves, creating organic movement of the branch. I guess it is coming from childhood, when you laying in bed and can't sleep and imagine magic scenes in little cracks and shadows on the ceiling, see prince on a horse in the garden, or may be it is you on the horse, or may be you are a garden.

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