When I need to think, I go here. What do I need to think about? Nothing at all if possible. I go to the dam to not think. My whole thinking apparatus is available to whatever feels like playing with it: the geese, the wind, the thundering water, the light playing tricks. The temporary and the timeless.
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Water rushing over the dam March 17, 2013 charcoal, wash |
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Inundation March 21, 2013 charcoal pencil |
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