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Intuitive Personalized Artist Books
Intuitive Pesonalized Artist Books
In my room there was a fountain filled with green gravel. And I so much enjoyed the effervescence. It took a few minutes for the flying stones to find their way back.
But when they did, it was the greenery that swirled. That genuinely found form. It was just as well. My momentary illumination was residual. This means it was only left over from a past event.
Neither the sky nor the ground was warm this morning. It had a cool eminence. It smelled of composure; very much like I imagined.
So I got a mirror to test an experiment I had in mind: a utensil where I could do more artistic books.
The influence of the clouds was obvious. For several days I was very busy with these things. They had a deep candid peace to them. These were themes that took no patience, though you would think they would.
The first one I did was about fifty pages. It was hardcover and the binding went very easily. The pictures were wide and had eldeberry vines. The blue-like sky was beautiful.
I had a lot of writing about zoos: the animals will love it if you do! Not to mention that the black-and-white was excellent. Books got fat. So here was my intuitive feat.
They called to mind other places--some of them were extended in time--great lizards appeared.
Cindy was her name. She waited for a room in L' hôtel du Suite. One became available as she called "busboy give me a guest pass for the recreation room."
When I arrived she was surprised to see me. But besides that, she was busying herself with poetry:
The rail was done well
it had no bell.
The tag above read:
For All To Rest
I wondered where the Birds
Went knowing these creatures best.
The activity was one where I just used the right iron to "tinge the square." And if I could get my greens going right then the eastern sun rose nicely. This is the way it is, I explained. It was the intuitive books that wake life.