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While on the airplane fragments of cloud scatter the ocean, as if painted by an artistic hand, delicate inflections of the brush spreading white over blue. Clouds pooled around the great mountains. The mountains lay in a great line like the spine of the land. Earlier in the morning the blue that stretched into the horizon had only been broken only by temporary wisps of white. The clouds are puffs of white magic in acres of blue. Slightly changing from pearl white to a calm yellow, warmly glowing in the summer sunshine. The morning sky is mostly cloud, deep steel blue greys that mirror the hues of the highway. Clouds move constantly flowing as sheets, hundreds of feet apart yet giving the appearance of one dense layer from the land below.
My visit to Hearst Castle was an old country mansion that had been extended over the centuries. It was built of stones of various sizes and shapes each one unique. It had over thirty bedrooms and twenty bathrooms within the magnificent walls that surrounded them. Everything about it said expensively built, inside and out. It was high upon a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It’s many pointed towers giving it the look of an eccentric crown. It had grown old, and tattered, the windows broken and the bricks crumbling.The walls were a white stone that glistened in the summer sun and the roof was grey slate. The oak floors lay strewn with leaves and debris, the staircase swept up toward an upper landing that had fallen away. Family portraits were painted in oils and hung in gold frames.The sculptures everywhere around the castle had been made long ago by masters of the craft.
One sunny day we took a trip to the beach. The sun emitted wave upon wave of heat from the center of a pale blue sky. The beautiful, big blue ocean’s waves are crashing against the cliffs. As you watch the beautiful birds joyfully fly around in circles in the air. They approached an ocean, vast and clear. The waves were wild horses rearing up before crashing down onto the beach. Pounding the sand with their white foam hooves.The water was almost still small waves occasionally hitting the beach with little force.The warm, golden sand runs between your toes with the gentle breeze. As you walk along, you find gorgeous, shiny shells that have been washed into the shore by the rippling of the water. They were all so tiny, so delicate.
We walked into a museum full of paintings I seen a painting that the composition of the painting is curious. Art is part of our human soul it is dreams emerging from a part of ourselves. A way to communicate with the deeper self of both the artist and others. My eyes were moving from place to place unable to decide what the focus of the piece is. I can only imagine that the art reflects the chaos inside the artist. The colors are vivid, almost to the point of garish. The stroke lines are bold and the images from out of this world. The painting looked like ash from some dirty fire had been mixed in. The paint itself looked like it was too thick on application giving the surface a rough look, the appearance of a stormy ocean.
I watch the sunset fall behind the horizon painting the sky. When seeing the sunset on the the sun cast its golden rays down upon the clouds of billowing smoke, turning them bright red. The sun was already dipping behind the horizon, an orange haze casted over the moving sea reflecting off every wave. It was like blazing flames were sinking steadily beneath the horizon. The bright pink wisps of clouds partially cloaking the magnificent globe. Half of a glowing radiant light loomed on the water’s horizon. The sun’s flames that give off warm rays that make you gaze into the distance, to absorb its power and existence.The sunset was already dipping behind the horizon, but the daylight still lingered in the air as though accidentally left behind.
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