I have this new painting hanging on the wall of my office. It’s a faded red rowboat, tied off, floating next to the shore. I’m not quite sure what it was about the picture that caught my eye, but something did. A couple months ago, when I was out shopping, looking to get stuff for my new place. I saw it. I liked it. I bought it.
Once I got it home, after everything else had found its place, the little red boat still hadn’t. It was sitting over on the floor, leaning up next to a wall of bookcases. That was when I noticed the significance of the painting. It was as if the little boat on the lake was just as abandoned and adrift in the picture as it now was in my office… in my life. What did an empty rowboat have to do with me?
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