Onions

onions
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Depressed and distressed but disen­chanted and disen­fran­chised by politics and the reporting thereof … and then, in one of of those strange serendip­itous moments, I’d just seen Cézanne’s Onions in a book and moments later was captivated by the flick­ering, raking winter sunlight setting the onions in the kitchen aglow, like jewels … and thought: why not? Or even: how could you not?

Hmmm … but something must have gone wrong somewhere.

I was after simplicity, beauty, serenity, honesty, even a sort of Van Gogh, onions and red cabbage, earth­iness … and N saw something menacing, threat­ening.
Bugger.

Back to the drawing board … or not — maybe we’re both right.

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