The trouble with the big picture is the amount of paint it requires. There are no numbers; no helpful hits just a massive Sistine Chapel and miles of painters tape.
I have the colors in my head.
I have the colors in my heart.
I even have them all over my fingers, dripping down past my wrists; I just feel miles from the canvas, on a slow treadmill.
Outstretched blues and reds and yellows and greens...
Like some Picasso Zombie starving to invade skulls.
I forgot to wear clothes I don't want to ruin. (Always do)
The blues hit my shoes and I carry them with me, painting each step.
I love that blue, I hate that blue...I just miss that blue
Imagine stepping into a vivid red ruining your perfect white soles, you storm and stomp, pace and run as far as you can.
And then you turn around...
You’ve colored you're entire path with the most beautiful, perfectly executed strokes. You forget fury and become inspired. Your shoes become wings.
...
I'm sorry for going outside the lines, it happens; it's happened to me, turn the page.
You have to.
The book is too big and you'll never finish at this rate.
(Plus I hear that in 3 pages there is a huge T-Rex and that red would look awesome dripping from his teeth)
That blue never goes away but it’s too good of a color not to use.
