Meeting Benches World art in all forms
LAYER
Love each time whitens the soul like a room. Overlaps the previous one on the other, sull’azzurrino away with tiny flowers, come the field poppies, then the light yellow with roses. And somewhere in a corner all peels off. Petals as you browse the layers of paint, and if I tried to scratch with a fingernail, would shine in the rough, sandy base of mortar. But do not you kneel. It does not touch.
(Štefan Strážay)
