watercolour morning

autumn trees

The idea of paintings and pictures as windows and doors into other worlds is fairly common in literature.

From MR James’ The Mezzotint to Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, pictures reveal secrets that are hidden from the real world; from Princess Rosamund in George MacDonald’s The Lost Princess to Edmund and Lucy Pevensie and their cousin Eustace Scrubb in CS Lewis’ The Dawn Treader, children step – or tumble – through into other worlds and places.

Yesterday’s morning walk didn’t take me into another dimension, although the mist and frost made everything slightly otherworldly.

And there were definitely views that only lacked a picture frame to be mistaken for a watercolour painting.

Misty lake with reflections

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

2 thoughts on “watercolour morning”

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