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| Often a rock structure looks like a monument, pushed up by a volcano, dense against a stronghold of empty space. The straight jagged edges turn an abrupt corner as if needed someplace else. It seems to be here for the duration, picking up bits and pieces of debris like a magpie. I like to think of the patterns on its surface as the rock's winter count, the record of its life. I sit and watch steadily like a rock would do, painting what I see, bearing witness to its layering that seems to hold secrets we once knew but have forgotten. I mark for hours and hours with colored pencils and paint, but still cannot grasp its entire story. | ||||