Along the way to the park, some revolting smells wafted from the plants awaking me from my drowse. As I reached the viewing platform by the soccer field, I saw soft and bright sunrays shining towards the sky, tinting the light grey clouds yellowish. I walked along the straight path feeling weird towards the clear and quiet pathway, which phenomenal scenery did not seems to reflect the crispy, orange brown, or the coolness of autumn. By the time I settled at the bottom of the straight path, the gloomy atmosphere was temporally swept by the hazy sunshine. But the misery feeling returned discouraging me to paint by watching the scene. I sat at the edge of the plant bed drafting the floor tiles by memory lazily, until the pattern did not follow toward the far end near the foot of the storage hurt. So I splashed washy paints diagonally across the surface to identity the receding area. At the end, the painting was depicted truly as gloomy as the atmosphere of the park.


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