{There is memory in our souls, a memory of what is still yet to be, as though it always stood with us and we only need remember}

This piece started out as something entirely different (as in orange-trees-and-creamy-white-sky kind of different) but then suddenly this strange thing began to happen. The trees grew smaller and the clouds rolled in, the sky turned blue-grey, and then I remembered a crescent moon I shot after a summer sunset at the ocean and soon the orange trees were no more (though perhaps I will use them again, someday).

I was all pleased with myself as I finally left my studio for the night, glad that even though I’d started down one path, a new one had come to easily to me.

Pleased with myself until I realized why this piece seemed so familiar

Remember last week’s story? Oh, by all means, please do go back, have a look, and tell me if I owe my son credit for the inspiration…

I think I do indeed!

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