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Feb. 9 '64
And so another show of my work has opened (Jan. 27) And there in that gallery are my oceans and mountains, my moonlight and my skies.
Another 3 years all neatly framed, gleaming through paint + varnish, and bared to the public.
Who really looked into them? Who saw the reef from the wave, the morning from the noon? , the whole wide whiteness of the sea spangled with light? The haunting? 
Or did they see color, and design and memories of places?
There is no real communication.
(One is alone. Know and remember this.)