Jon Gregory Presco
The Art of The Trespass
Last night I dreamed I worked on the painting of a great artist who befriended me – without his permission. He could not get his summer grass right, so, I picked up his brush (while he slept) and gave him a clue as to how it could be done, but not enough of a hint where he could not claim complete ownership, and abandons the great work in pure disgust because a mere amateur, (or a greater genius then himself,) had upstaged him.
This dream was inspired by the composing (in my head) of my this first chapter, this opening scene, that would best describe my dear friend Bill to you.
Bill and I had known each for three months. I had just turned thirteen. We are standing inside an artist’s studio beholding a work in progress…
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