Burn, burn, burn, Burn out.
Page three of my sketchbook. There may be a few paintings hidden in this image, waiting to be created.
I am just waking up from my celebration hang over to an empty bed made of loose sand and unpacked clothes. Oddly enough, we were able to escape the sights and sounds of the fireworks yet I didn't feel like I missed anything. Flashes of fire in the sky are so temporary, but so are clean hands.
