I pass this wall of a store on a side of a road most of the week and it has evaded my camera all these months until today. Mosaic wall art always fascinated me because of two things: the time it takes to create it and how you have to actually think as you create it. I only say “think” because you have to see where a piece goes and how it fits to the next piece. When I oil paint, I let my mind wander and be lazy; it’s extremely relaxing. I don’t want to strategize where what goes and why, albeit, I would certainly entertain the idea of creating a mosaic someday soon.
The contrast between the softness of the plants, the organic texture of the little stool against the colorful yet hard pieces of the mosaic wall behind it, was too much for me not to take a picture. I could easily slip into a metaphoric rant right now, but I’ll save it for later. Maybe.
After I took these pictures, some guy across the street sitting in a truck was staring me down. He was waiting for someone, I suppose. I stared back, not in a friendly way either. We had a stare down! I held my ground! I almost said something like “What is your problem?” I only had to look away to look to get into my car or else I’d trip and make a fool out of myself. Other than that, I had a good day because Jersey guys always open doors for us ladies no matter where we go and the guy at Wawa gas station pumped my gas (I’ve been having problems with my gas gauge; it keeps clicking and I have to stand there and hold the pump). It’s true in New Jersey, we don’t pump our own gas-we have people that do that for us (gasp). We are one spoiled bunch of people here. Anyways, so for the past 8 months, I’ve been pumping my own gas, especially if the guys are busy attending to other cars. I don’t mind it-really. Sometimes, I’ll have to play argue with them in saying it’s fine if I stand outside and pump my own gas because they are determined to do it for me. How did I get into talking about gasoline?!