FunkyPlaid and I took my mom to Edgefield today, where she and I received hour-long massages at their spa. We were left languid and dreamy, and as we wandered the grounds in search of FunkyPlaid, we encountered this tiny bunny. The rabbit was in no rush at all, savoring the niblets of green he was stealing from the herb garden.
Writing from: the bedroom, which is bearable tonight after days of unseasonable heat. Listening to: the absence of Maxine the refrigerator’s loud voice … she finally has a new fan and is nearly silent!
I know this is very old news, but I just found the painting for a patron and I am unsettled by it, so much so that I cannot stop looking at it.
I had recurring nightmares as a child about a gigantic rabbit. Although he did not look exactly like this, the painting captures something of that old terror. Perhaps I am most disturbed by the girl’s expression. What is she feeling?