30 April 2020. Mountain Roads.
So much borrowed, inevitably--borrowed and remembered. And I wanted the drawing to be more open, maybe the spontaneous feel of Gil's Inside. But these things only happen when necessary. Is that so? Doubts, as usual. The warm yellow at the bottom right, for example. That's how the light works in this room--which is in itself a kind of truth. So let it be? Or push for a purer white? And then C tells me (not knowing the dilemma) that the yellow cast is one of the things she likes...
A line from years ago: Roads twisted like sheep's guts. I can remember B quoting it, with great focus--like one of the talismans. And that was before David Hinton--when these glancing visions came to us through the archaic lines of Ezra Pound.
I see that Elliot Weinberger has put them side by side, though--Li Po's Night Thoughts in each of their versions. Yes, let the reader decide.
Neither being impossibly true to the world...
