It surprised me to see all the paintings together. I don't think I've ever had such a collection.
Berries, of course. White blueberries. All lost in a white canvas background of bushes and sky.
"That's it?" Jon would say. Or my dead father. My grandfather would take deep breaths of the sweet berry scent. "Lovely, dear," my mother would say, though she wouldn't have looked.
I like the whiteness, the silence of this show.