Maybe. . .if I create 100 cloud paintings, I will be no longer need to grieve.

I think I just wanted a purpose, a goal, something to work toward. So, I decided on a number that I hoped to complete. But, as the paintings became angrier and angrier, I realized that it wasn't the number that mattered. It was just. . .just. . .that I needed to look up, to make, to think, and to care. . . So, I just painted, lost count, forgot to catalogue, number or even realize how many paintings were littered about my studio. I found myself not even liking the paintings anymore.....just the process. Sometimes I could barely see the canvas through the tears and anger.....sometimes the canvases were all I saw whether painting or not. And the best of times happened when I did such mundane things as mixing blue, cleaning brushes, scraping my palette and/or hammering and hanging. The young boy who mowed my grass remarked that I may need a storage building to hold all of the paintings. So, yeah....what am I going to do with all these cloud paintings. After all, I didn't really care about them...I just wanted to keep painting. And so I did.