fleeting thoughts, no time for a real post . . .
I was driving to work one day this week and at first glance, I thought Denver was on fire; I was driving up Broadway in littleton at just the moment when the sun reflected off most of Denver's skyscrapers . . . it was like looking into a torch or a torched bar graph.
Second thought: My father informed me the last time he called that my elementary school art teacher died this week. Her name was Mrs. Bruno . . . I have no way to explain this exemplary woman . . . she was widowed, and appeared years older than she really was. She wore her hair up in a 19th century style bun/pinned up braid gone off blonde grey and with flyaways. Her classroom was disorganized to say the least but to a child full of endless treasures in every corner . . . she never threw anything away and was full of endless ideas. In her world and for years after, I thought I would be an artist. Even eight years after I saw here I applied to art school and got in . . . but familial pressures led me to engineering and I never quite got back, at least not yet.
Perhaps after my medical/PT training is done . . . time does fly so fast; the last time I saw Mrs. Bruno must have been 13+ years ago . . . I would have loved to have spent more time with her; it is one of many reasons why I sometimes almost but never fully wish I'd left home.
Anyhow, back to my thesis. With it on the frontburner I don't have time or energy to reminisce as much as I'd like . . .
Second thought: My father informed me the last time he called that my elementary school art teacher died this week. Her name was Mrs. Bruno . . . I have no way to explain this exemplary woman . . . she was widowed, and appeared years older than she really was. She wore her hair up in a 19th century style bun/pinned up braid gone off blonde grey and with flyaways. Her classroom was disorganized to say the least but to a child full of endless treasures in every corner . . . she never threw anything away and was full of endless ideas. In her world and for years after, I thought I would be an artist. Even eight years after I saw here I applied to art school and got in . . . but familial pressures led me to engineering and I never quite got back, at least not yet.
Perhaps after my medical/PT training is done . . . time does fly so fast; the last time I saw Mrs. Bruno must have been 13+ years ago . . . I would have loved to have spent more time with her; it is one of many reasons why I sometimes almost but never fully wish I'd left home.
Anyhow, back to my thesis. With it on the frontburner I don't have time or energy to reminisce as much as I'd like . . .