Friday, April 12, 2013
It isn't that I don't have anything to say. I have far too much to say. Without David as a sounding board for all the little things that popped into my head, my head has become a rather noisier place. And I spend more time there inside my head, mulling over strange new sad feelings. And wondering how, and whether, and to whom I might express them. Mostly I think you're safe here. I may cry now and then, but my giant filter is largely intact. As if to prove that to myself, I just deleted a whole paragraph.
These are paintings done at Union Station in Los Angeles - two in the same morning. I took a Los Angeles Conservancy evening tour of Union Station last summer, so I know a bit more about it. I've taken long and short train rides to and from Union Station over the years. It's a good place, coming and going.