"This little fella will bring some colour into my life," thought the girl with the Gerbera daisy. Purchashing the cute potted plant, she climbed into her rocket car and took off for the rings of Saturn, where she battled Kromm The Destroyer and saved the universe.
The girl with the daisy is a real individual, I saw her from a distance in a plant shop. I have no idea what her story is, though, at least not past the moment where she posed with her flower. You could probably guess that from my opening paragraph.
She was attractive, but wore drab clothes. The daisy was as stereotypical as a houseplant can be. I was really excited by her composition and mein, which looked to me like a New Yorker cover or a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. (At this point, I imagine my wife is a little bewildered: You look at other women and you're excited by their MEIN!? I am certain, dear JSVB followers, that I will have to pay for this in the future somehow.) Since I had no camera, I came home and drew what I remembered of the girl, whoever she was.
She was attractive, but wore drab clothes. The daisy was as stereotypical as a houseplant can be. I was really excited by her composition and mein, which looked to me like a New Yorker cover or a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. (At this point, I imagine my wife is a little bewildered: You look at other women and you're excited by their MEIN!? I am certain, dear JSVB followers, that I will have to pay for this in the future somehow.) Since I had no camera, I came home and drew what I remembered of the girl, whoever she was.
I am developing a personal mania for recording my remembrances. I don't want to rely on photography, but on translating what I have in my head through my right hand and onto paper or digital media. That seems really important right now. It sure is hard work, though, and I wonder who would buy any of this stuff.
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