The Sleep of Trees
Sleepoftrees
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Copy_right F. Scott Hess

11 p.m. in my Hours of the Day series. The woman sleeps, but the man is twisted in the sheets, restless. Sketchbooks, and tomes on Michelangelo and Bosch are at his side. The rigid, gridded interior gives way to a mounting storm outside. The laundry basket and paint brushes from the 11 a.m. hour sit in the grass, while the boat from Through the Fence (7 p.m.) is swamped by roses. The trees swirl and twist, past the house with the red door, up the road, to the electrified storm clouds in the distance.

February 9, 2010

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