There Is This Lake From Afar

Maybe it was a mistake to embark on this journey. You stare at the boundless ocean, an overwhelming blue from above the horizon to below. As it is the only thing you see for days on end, you begin to be somewhat familiar with the fickly nature of weather and water. Whatever the sky wills, the ocean follows; through the folds of storms to the idyllic streams of sunlight, they become synonymous to each other. For now, the wind has reached a standstill which left the ocean to be unusually slack.

Distantly, you remember how alluring the ocean was from the shore, how it beckoned you to venture forth to new lands, only to gain the opposite effect once you waded too far inwards. It stares back at you with double the intensity, reinforced with an eerie calm.

You think of your easel at home, situated by your bedroom window. You feel the itch to etch its emptiness felt deep from the pit in your stomach across the blank canvas spread. To let go of the grip of the unwavering blue, lapping against your boat, teasing to swallow you whole, and trap it into a tangible form where it will forever reside in the finite dimensions of length and width.

Ah.... but there are still some ways to go.
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If you want more art from me, I have some in my spam book in chapters 3, 41, 46, 48, 52, 56, 61, 62.

I might spontaneously delete this book.