Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
All rights reserved.
It is the color of the fresh sheet of paper, the first page of the journal, that both beckons and taunts an artist.
It is the sharp, sinus-tingling smell of cold weather coming over the horizon.
It is the muted, echoing sound of a car rolling down a snow-covered road.
It is the sticky, bland taste of steamed rice before the salt and butter are added for flavor.
It is the feeling of mist against your face and arms, and dew against your ankles, right before the early morning fog is burned off by the sun.