free...

the laundry spins and wasps bump against the window pane; i lift my eyelids and i lift my arm. i lift my brush. there. there. there. i am lost in the bow tied at the neck of her dress. precise. she is lovely... the little one, the youngest of the grey girls...
it has been a good day for painting.

i came across another stack of drawings that i no longer have room for and aren't fit to be shown. on my way to the recycle bin, i turned around and brought them all back inside. i got out my straight-edge instead and tore them down to postcard size. i've got a ton of strange half-faces, halved paper-dolls, and drip-ridden abstractions sitting in my bookcase now. if you want one send me your address. the first round will go out this weekend and you are more than welcome to as many as you'd like: angelasimione@aol.com