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Art and its purpose.

Neil Gaiman, one of my very favorite wordsmiths said this:

"The world always seems brighter when you've just made something that wasn't there before."

I perused a local art show today, the crowd light at first opening, the wind warm, the air humid. Sweet smell of Kettle Korn and the spice of Italian sausages made my mouth wet , but I pushed the fake grumble of my stomach away( it was only 9am!).

Sparkles of silver and jewels flashed in the morning sun , colors so bright on canvases beckoned my sandled feet as I heard whispers of "touch me", " look at me", " come closer, breath in my magic."

I believe my words are art on paper through me. I create, I bleed for the need to have my readers "touch me" ," look at me" , " come closer, breathe in my magic." I want my stories be like art to my readers, willing to wait for the moment to turn the page, to go into the created world and be part of it.

My senses devour the beauty, the humor, the whimsical, the spiritual of the displayed art that were placed at the right place, in the covered glass, on the clothed tables , hanging from canvas, bright and sparkly.

The artists, always with a smile and a nod, hope in their eyes that their creation is just for you. I know this feeling.

Here are a few of my favorite pieces, that held me and made my heart fill with the touch of the story.

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