The years mesh in and out, woven with memories here and there. A mosiac more grand tha I could ever have painted or imagined.
"WORK for the night is coming, when man WORKS no more" a hymn often sang in a little country church in a hard working rural community.
Whe I look a Jlo's art, I see not a field of play, but what looks like WORK to me.
And I think of my dad who Plowed and tilled the fields, planted the seeds and pulled the weeds, then harvested the land.. It was a WORK of love. When I remember the hours I painted, it was a WORK not play, The gift I had was perserverence. So we have different gifts, some the ability to make music, and others the gift to listen and enjoy.
So let us " WORK for the night is coming, when man WORKS no more"