It feels strange to wonder.
Sometimes I look around as if it were a work of art. Sometimes I can not understand how something so simple and common may arouse so many mixed feelings about someone.
Sometimes I go crazy when I can not watch it, it's amazing how I remember the shades and lines. The changing colors you can find in a work of art reflects the dedication that brought the author when he painted it.
Sometimes I can not stop thinking about how perfect the curves and the delicacy of the brushwork.
Because at first, when you see the work from the gallery door you can not appreciate how perfect it is, despite not. Andor I get behind, and feelings go beyond what the weather may bring. I get behind and I realize that the table does not need restoration because it is perfect as is.
envejesca No matter because I do, I also change when you step off the work. Change each time. With him.
And if the work of my life I do not want to lose sight.
I contemplate the rest of my life.
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