oil on canvas 55x33cm -cotton cloth treated with handmade priming
glossy finish
shipping in cardbox
"Not very far from here"
My love, not everything always turns out the right way:
but it's not just because of bad weather
if the harvest has been lost.
And it's funny how sometimes time flows
better than expected: a looming panic
it forces us to domesticate
a fervent smile, a sudden well-being.
Is it perhaps a remote hope for happiness?
Enjoy the sun in December, not far from here it snows.
Not very far from here people devoured rushing races
in the grip of anxiety to return to the starting point, and forget
the weight of the stakes, and the how and when when it's raining outside.
My love, it is not a fault to not know how to handle joy
and the fact of being at ease in pain and resignation.
And it is unnatural as sometimes we force ourselves to ignore
the constant moaning of our real inclinations:
the margin of error of an incessant subtraction.
Is it perhaps a remote hope for happiness?
Enjoy the sun in December, not far from here it snows.
Not far from here people show obscure eccentricities
in the grip of anxiety to amaze, he wears his masks
and forget that of courage in the moment of revival.
Not far from here it's snowing.
Not far from here it's snowing.
Credits
Writer (s): Carmen Consoli
oil paint
53 Artist Reviews
£1,821.71 Sold
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oil on canvas 55x33cm -cotton cloth treated with handmade priming
glossy finish
shipping in cardbox
"Not very far from here"
My love, not everything always turns out the right way:
but it's not just because of bad weather
if the harvest has been lost.
And it's funny how sometimes time flows
better than expected: a looming panic
it forces us to domesticate
a fervent smile, a sudden well-being.
Is it perhaps a remote hope for happiness?
Enjoy the sun in December, not far from here it snows.
Not very far from here people devoured rushing races
in the grip of anxiety to return to the starting point, and forget
the weight of the stakes, and the how and when when it's raining outside.
My love, it is not a fault to not know how to handle joy
and the fact of being at ease in pain and resignation.
And it is unnatural as sometimes we force ourselves to ignore
the constant moaning of our real inclinations:
the margin of error of an incessant subtraction.
Is it perhaps a remote hope for happiness?
Enjoy the sun in December, not far from here it snows.
Not far from here people show obscure eccentricities
in the grip of anxiety to amaze, he wears his masks
and forget that of courage in the moment of revival.
Not far from here it's snowing.
Not far from here it's snowing.
Credits
Writer (s): Carmen Consoli
oil paint
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