colour used to make me dizzy; and flowers are the last thing i could see myself painting... ever!? but here it is...
i'm as confused as anyone
random thought: one of my earliest memories as a child was going to my nan's house every weekend with my little wicker basket that she would fill with the most wonderful floral arrangements for me to take home for the week; and as the flowers faded and died I would get really excited about the coming weekend when she would make a brand new arrangement for me (possibly why i like dead flowers)
i'm reading: Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited
