Viewing the moment through a lens, the mind might forecast on this; form and formula to a science. A street in Brooklyn or waxing poetic on the atlas of the world. One century is a watercolor rendering of family history: a story where all souls get older and grandmothers get gone. If sailboats went unspoken and blue-green-gray stained silver was mute, the line of him would still be the loveliest thing. Brown meets peach and burgundy so the scene is tones of melancholy tempered with simple happiness; watching him sketch. The bottom will drop out at any second. A slice of joy can only be the chop of water on a damp day, and being witness to a painter’s hands taking notes on color and the horizon.