Musings

…somewhere at the Musee de Chagall

How much of a thing, or even perhaps the shape or colour, need be used to deliver understanding? Hints of line, shape; beginnings and transitions to other beginnings or voids, an almost presence, opaquely tacit – unto some detached conglomerate of segments, fractious finale.
The meal of composition replete with deliciously ambiguous ingredients. Vague motions propelling one down la rue du apprehension?