It was very dark at the precinct while the glow from the office canopy did not shine too far. The slate blue sky dispersing floating monocles in the air screened the glow of the strong street lamp into a sheer of yellowish fog. I walked into the park all by myself through the wide opened gate meeting no body until I reached the canopy by the side of the tennis courts, where the oldies waving the fans in their hands lazily in silent. I hurried to my painting site under the cluster of canopy by the side of the basketball field where joggers and walkers began to frequent the track and the pathway. I poured water on the other end of the bench again to avoid people sitting in front of me whom might block the view that I was going to paint. The portion of the view to paint this morning continued to extend on the left, where the pillar erected on a piece of thin slab stood behind the bench that I was sitting. The trimmed portion of the bench, cut the right bottom corner of the paper, assisted me to measure the distortion of the tile floor though it took me time to construct. I kept watching the time finding it insufficient to complete the picture, and then I quickly laid down a primal layer of wash and pack while the park regulars were too anxious to take my place for exercisers.


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