there is so much going on in this image that i never noticed before. the huge open eyes of the little woman, the anger in the face of the little cat by her side, the darkness of the little dog, his opaqueness, the lines, the fence that separates them, the connection of their gazes, the curiosity, the spontaneity, the fragility, the starkness of the tree, the dirt of the cement wall, the scratches, the desperate strokes of a fading paintbrush that puts the blurry and bruised but indelible words onto the ground below them, of letters that begin thick, that unravel and ease off, the pressure of their painting loosening,
the intensity of their meaning escapes them



.