It is said in the myths of Voyageurs that natives of the mountains played boulders like the bells of their French heritage. The sound of stone rang across the land and through the water.
The carved polished quartz canopy of the old ship, Island, had been taken and traded many years ago. All that remained was eroded grooves in granite were the crystal clear fitting of the cockpit cloak was housed in the hull. Weeds had pieced her body.
It was then Art saw the runes written long before writing. In those primordial magma inks the virgin dreamt of children. Their bodies had dynamic shapes of fluid streaming motion.
Molded on the walls of inlaid quartzite crystal granite the young earth wrote her dearly desired leaping free of her devoted molten gravity.
Behind the plywood picture plane Byron video taped Thomas' painting.
The second sitting of the day done, it was time to go. Thomas and Byron paddled the paint gear upwind. Philip did video of his walk back to the top of the island.