The beach calls to me. I can hear the seagulls lonely call above the drone of the crashing surf, drowing out the problems of the day. The knife quietly spreads paint across the canvas. I catch a glimpse of the tranquility I feel when I am there. I wish I were there now. When the cool breeze blows through my hair, the salty spray splashes my legs and my feet sink in the soft sand. I orchestrate, calling the canvas, paint and knife to recreate my memory but it is the texture that adds the calls of the gulls and the crash of the waves, the splash of the surf, the heat of the sun, the symphony of the experience.

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