Waking up in Nahiku, raindrops linger from the night before, and sound of the river is constant and rhythmic. A few friends and I decided to visit an old studio across the bridge. We walked up the dilapidated steps and into the musty room. There were paintings amongst the vine and spider web inhibited walls being. Some were finished, others were the bare bones of art. We rescued a few to bring back to the house of the painter where my friend Anna is living for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment