Monica: The fog rolls in, blurring the lines where earth becomes sky and sky becomes sea. I don't love the muted gray blanket that covers the sun, but I surrender to the soft colors and the quiet that it brings. I feel part of the infinite in such moments—that which has no beginning and no end.
Evelyn: The infinite skies, stretched and illuminated. I can't help but to stand, awed, at the painted canvas, the ever-changing skies, the extraordinary colors, and the infinite cycles of the moon, the seasons, the days and nights... I often imagine that the sky has been painted just for me during those moments when I stop, gazing and filled with gratitude.
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