In all art each one sees from experience, from shapes and lines, from squint and head-bend, from wishful thinking. My vision of the WORK is a single-bulb on a light cord from the ceiling, in a small yellow kitchen amongst the pushed-aside plate and ashtray on the table. Shoulders hunched over an old Underwood the size of an anvil, page halfway filled, and a story born and birthing in that light cast on the snow.
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