Sometimes I feel like I don't belong in my surroundings. I feel out of place, too friendly, too loud, too silly, too honest. My Texan drawl makes me stick out like a sore thumb. I want to see and smell big green horse pastures. I love the smell cow manure, dirt filled arenas. I long to see highways that seem endless or smell an approaching thunderstorm. Soak up an endless star-studded, horizon-to-horizon sky. I always feel like I can breath when I look out to a flat blue sky. I remember driving from Dallas to San Angelo and stopping on the side of the highway, the only car there and laying the the hood of my car to watch the night sky. I would do that just about every trip. Sometimes, I feel lost. Sometimes, I miss home.
Me in black and white, against my painting of a Texas thunderstorm for a Self-Portrait Tuesday. Running a little late this week.
The Bristlecone Pine: Twisted Contortions of the Ancients
31 minutes ago