Arthur and his trio of artists drove out of town and into the sunrise.
The party paddled into a dazzle of light towards the setting sun.
The tree which Thomas and Phillip painted in the fading light had been broken and formed by winds. They painted the power of life. Hardships the tree endured formed a character and generated personage, thought Arthur.
Phillip rested, smoked a pipe, and contemplated his panel painting.
Byron took the pipe and some smoke.
Along the shore a scruffy flower grew going to seed. It is autumn and we are ripening, Arthur mused.