The artist and his muse

after watching a doc on johanna bonger, I thought of all the people who follow artists and make them important

I was further away from them
I could hear the murmer of their voices
But was not privileged to their words
I was further away from them
The boys on the ridge passing back and forth
memories; I was further away from them
Not ever within arms reach
But scuttling behind, curating their footsteps
Collecting their love-letters:
The brothers by the sunflowers
The artist and his muse
–ECW

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