A page from the Rhodia. The bear came to me one night before sleep. He was a very dark shade of brown, almost black, almost merging with the night. The branch he was sitting on was black. The trunk and its swirls were black. The leaves interwined into blackness. And the bear was smiling a little. Like he knows something I don’t. And I remember wanting to rush up to him and sit on his comfy lap and snuggle to sleep in his embrace.
I still have slightly less than half of the Rhodia to go.
Images: jacklynl @ Flickr
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