The November sunlight disappeared half-way through painting. So, tomorrow, I must go back to the sun-lit photo and find the vanished shadows. The face of the house was streaked with diagonals and the white window frames gleamed. In the garden stood a yellow fruit tree, still plentiful. Its black and knobbly bark stood out. Leaves rattled down from a plane tree and swept across the garden. I hear there may be ghosts. |