International Artist

The Bastard Son

Imagine you’re walking through the rolling hills of Tuscany, an area blanketed with lush green slopes and groves of olive trees whose leaves rustle as the breeze from the valley rises and the day’s heat builds.

As the sound of the chimney swifts from the lower village chatter overhead, you come up on a handsome young boy who is completely engaged in studying the clouds above. Greetings pass between us, as you look up to find what is holding his intense gaze, you ask, “What’s up there?” “Exactly, what is up there,” he paused in thought then continued, “Haven’tAnd there, in the water, what makes those repeating patterns on the water’s surface as it goes along?” He then points toward an old town wall and towers on a distant hill and said “and recently I noticed that when you are looking at those round towers over there, if you close one eye, the towers seem to lose their roundness, why is that? Haven’t you ever wondered about those things?”

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