Blank.
That's the word that comes to mind when I think of the future.
Is it blank because I've destroyed what should belong there?
Or, is it because it is, as yet, unwritten?
A canvas primed for paint but not yet vibrant with color.
The gesso valleys, and hairs from the brush sticking to it's surface;
the only reminder of the work that has gone into the preparation.
Blank. A word full of promise.
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