but I stand on meadow, getting whispered by wind, tickled by grasses. endlessly. everyday. so what's actually the definition of lonely?"
at first, this painting didn't look nice at all. i thought this would ended up joining the other stacks of fail artworks underneath my desk. but then i remember this is a painting. judging that fast is not allowed. just let the brush keep moving.
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Let me know what crosses your head :D