Just another sleepy canal with a beautiful little wooden boat. I dream about the family that took this little boat cross country in the many canals during their summers. Looking at these little paintings makes me miss my vagabond existence. It feels like another person created these. In many ways it was. I had little or no obligations. I was closeted and struggling with my identity. Art was my only lifeline. It was my prozac and excuse for being. I became that little vessel. Ahoy!