Only rare weak bulbs still cut through the darkness of the trees, like sad tear-stained eyes in a dull gray mist. I still like the alleys more than the streets. It was more interesting to walk there, in such cosy and beautiful ones. And trees and bushes and fences leaned towards you and sometimes touched you, as if they like to feel your face and find out if you had been here before. And they recognised you. It felt like some common secret connects you with the alleys and the objects that were there.
Acryl colors, cotton canvas
£2,462.66 Sold
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Only rare weak bulbs still cut through the darkness of the trees, like sad tear-stained eyes in a dull gray mist. I still like the alleys more than the streets. It was more interesting to walk there, in such cosy and beautiful ones. And trees and bushes and fences leaned towards you and sometimes touched you, as if they like to feel your face and find out if you had been here before. And they recognised you. It felt like some common secret connects you with the alleys and the objects that were there.
Acryl colors, cotton canvas
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