Hot Hot Hot

It is the end of July and my thoughts are slow with the speed of my brush, hot and humid, the air weighs me down. I have spent time reading books, many books, all kinds of books. The images that I see daily and in my mind are now coupled with the images that are formed by an author's word or thought. Characters come to life and watch me paint, and I laugh at them, because at any moment I can close the book, shelve the book, or cancel the book from my Kindle. If only life was that simple.