There’s a painting I’m working on.
A man in a garden.
It’s me.
A self portrait.
My garden.
It is the first day of the world.
Everything is dew fresh.
You can see beneath the soil.
There are worms and roots just below.

Photo by h.koppdelaneyThe man in the garden is alone.
He doesn’t have a rake or spade.
He doesn’t see the worms.
He is neither happy nor sad.
His world is a bubble that extends as far as he can reach.
Touch.
Believe.
In any direction.

What can he see in the corner of his eye?

Everything we do is a self portrait.