It’s a small step. But it was a step. And that, was worth celebrating.

Once a circle, soon a fragment. Division, division, division. Those closest, separated. What can mend what is now broken?

Unsure of what would be found. Unsure of what would be uncovered. Unsure of what would appear.

Started painting in his early forties. His work was scorned by the art community. Did he lose any sleep? The sleeping gypsy says otherwise.

In the grand scheme of things, a blimp. A small disruption. A ripple.