Professional painting is very rewarding. I've met so many people who "hate to paint". This is normally followed by horror stories of too many color choices, paying way too much for the paint, stepping off of a ladder into a paint pan, taking up a weekend or more of time and more bone chilling paint stories. Personally, if I had anything else to do, I'd rather be painting.
There's a high sense of satisfaction when I apply a brush to a wall, and watch it sail across the open abyss to create a line of color in its wake. Once the wall edges are shored up, a roller bursting with thick pigmented coating is casually placed on the wall and rolled along a rhythmic wave to create a smooth, quiet, and reflective surface. Once the winds catch the wall, the room transforms into a brand new, flawless escape from its former weathered look.
Today I got lost in the sunset of yellow, on an ocean of deep blue, past calm grey clouds, towards the never ending straight horizon line, and thought to myself that there's nowhere else I'd rather be.
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