D
is for Delta. Cramped and guided for too long in narrows force must, big with
addition, shoot wide over availability, direct and detour, spread out so rich
in the blues, the mineral basin, joy. Swamped and gouged over long flats in
flood D colours manifold capillaries, irresistibly embellishes and emeshes,
crawls to the sea, beautiful, fertile, engulfed by its element: reminiscent of
John Olsen (Closing February) crazily applying textures amid his garden party
of paint pots. E is for Epsilon, the inexplicable and multitudinous birds arising,
commonest signs, where waters converge like language, their wings the
microscopic evolutionary link.
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