Possible, impossible

I just realized how much everything depends on the moment.  We cannot influence anything, no matter how hard we try.  I think the Buddhists understand that.  Maybe other religions and philosophies as well.  Even politicians and spies can't learn from previous events, so how can we?  If anyone has a chance, they should go to the first Church or open green field and pray.  Who will be heard first?  It feels so strange, to be writing of green fields in the middle of the night.  But that is an artist's domain....to always think of other scenarios...remember the dark when there is light...reminisce about snow in the summer.  It's not necessary that everything is opposite, black or white...it can just be a single letter, a breath, a stumble, a sound, which transport us back or forward to what has been or what will be....
At this point, I would like to add a photo, but will have to find a way to import my latest work in a direct way.  Technical hurdle, again.  Imagine a photo here...green upon green, with star-like splashes, spiralling towards an ultramarine nebula!
Today, I learned a few things, some old some new.  One is that I don't remember some of the most beautiful moments of life, another; that tomorrow is the first day of Summer even though it almost feels over. I also realized that I have secretly been an abstract painter for most of the time.  Though that's not something I learned, but something I realized. Learning and realizing are definitely not the same thing.  So much is learned before it is realized.  My abstract paintings are just beginnings, musings, secretive plays and fanciful expressions.  Most of them end up with visions and visitors of human shapes, but some refuse entry or change, remaining enigmatic renderings of imprints and strokes of colour.
Another thing I learned is that more that 1,000 people have seen this blog!  I wonder if any ever read it?
I still prefer painting from live models.  Their destinies are often entwined with the paintings.  I learned today, that my impressions are often idealized even though I prize myself as being an astute judge of character.  No one can really know how these changes occur.  S will move on to another country, taking her painting with her, without really knowing why. I am sad to see it go, more than the actual person.  The best of her is in the painting.  It will never change.  Time's tarnish of a painting is external, while of a person it is internal...but that is for another time.  The east is going to sleep.