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december fog Drove home through fog and got home just in time to see that someone had stolen the Mona Lisa. True, it happened years ago and what I was watching was a documentary on television, but it was still news to me. It seemed odd that one man just walked into the Louvre, lifted the painting off of the wall and walked out with it under his coat. It all sounds so simple and I am sure that it couldn't be done today. Then once they were done with Leonardo and his Mona Lisa, they moved on to Picasso and his work Guernica. These were the last images that I saw before I fell asleep. I have to laugh at myself when I go back and read earlier entries. What may have been important to me at one time suddenly sounds stilted and rehearsed when I come back to it later. Emotional outbursts never work very well for me here and I do limit them from time to time. What may have taken place in a small moment of time suddenly becomes distorted into a massive entry. I find it all very odd even though it is me at the same time. The way that I see it, my writing has never relied that much on adjectives or metaphor. Nor do I break into free verse very often. I prefer the Hemingway approach with declarative sentences that hide and reveal at the same time, which doesn't always appeal to people. Then again this is my own little world that I create and destroy on a daily basis so I make all of the rules.
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