2013-03-02

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A peaceful scene, soft green grass, a gentle wind blows, he knows this place, he has been here before. He walks through it, to the lake as if drawn, there beside the water Luka kneels. The soft call of birds, the gentle beat of the sun.

Yet, he seems so lost, a pain in the opast that he can not begin to explain as this beautiful scene grows to include the scent of the flowers, the soft trickle of the water as it moves. Colors blend in that soft green hue, still the man there wears an expression caught between happiness and sadness, as if not knowing which direction to go.

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Luka Crosszeria (Zess.)

August 2013

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