The longer I live, the more I think of our lives as pieces of art.
As an artist, I view myself as wrapping up the last few chapters of my book.
Or I’m adding additional hues of green to my watercolor painting.
Then my mind goes to what others may think of my art piece.
I remember the saying, “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”
That explains why I’m attracted to certain people and not so much to others.
Isn’t it good when we appreciate our own works of art, our own lives?
Then I think I’m thinking too much.
And I fix myself a peanut butter sandwich.
Bucket brain