Art dad

He built with Love


When I was six my dad and I used to do a skit called 'Mr Yahwehs Kite'.
I can still feel his hand run along my spine as he pretended to build me, the little kite. He stretched out the wings and covered them with paper, attached the string and let me fly.
I'm older now but when I look at the simple silouttes of a landscape I am reminded that it all comes back to this. He built with love. Dad did, and Yahweh did.

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