we met when i lived in dc during my internship.
i have fond memories of sitting on her couch in her eclectic little home
painting pottery and rummaging through all her art supplies.
i sure do miss her fiery spirit.
i've been feeling a need to get in touch with the stereotypical painter in me, lately.
the black-turtleneck-sporting & paint-splattered-overall-wearing, vegan, coffee-shop frequenter with a beatnik boyfriend
who'd pick me up for dates on his vespa.
i used to just adore painting. in fact, i still have the "best of show" ribbon from my glory days displayed in my room.
i wonder how difficult it would be to regain that skill...
excuse me while i call ashira ;)
for now, mood boards & daydreams about working in a tiny studio in sanfran are getting me by.