I have looked each day at the lonely horizon, at that line (or is it a line?) where the sea and the sky meet. I have tried to understand it and tried to know how to paint it and what the painting of it might mean. I have seen light immediately above and I have seen light immediately below. I have tried to understand the shadow and the reflection upon reflection. I have seen everything definite, the line, the light, the shadow, the color, on a clear day, and I have seen everything disappear in the mist, the fog, or the passing of a cloud. After many days, I had seen so much that I could ...


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