Everything is painted with the same brush. Fully loaded and slanting one can paint the leaves; removing most of the moisture and holding the brush perpendicular one can paint the antennae of the cricket.
Notice the variety of ink-tones.

The cricket is looking at you—how Japanese! Try to find a painting in the western world in which an insect is making eye-contact with the observer. Your search will be in vain.

This is not a real painting; it is a virtual image, which I created ten years ago
It shows the artist concentrating on the road in front of him.
There seems to be trouble ahead…

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrright.

No matter what our leaders tell us, we now know that this is not a slight complication.
It's a mess! We are in difficult straights. In a jam, a fix, a pickle. Hot water up to our ears.
Once you know the future, it automatically becomes the past. So there really is no reason to worry anymore.
While the ship is sinking, I'm going down to the kitchen to get myself some chopped liver and another bottle of champagne…

This is an experimental painting.
While I am not willing to reveal everything, I will let you in on some technical secrets:
Wear black clothing. Then take a dry sheet of the bark of the tree Pterocelsis Tatarinowii Maxim and sprinkle the excretions of the female of Bos Taurus here and there. Then apply a mixture of colloidal carbon and the colorless compound of Hydrogen and Oxygen. Don't forget to take a bath afterwards.

While toiling at my task I was channeling Hieronimus Bosh. That accounts for the futuristic desolation. To cheer things up a bit—to give this work a human element, to which we all can relate—I have added a mom in her SUV, returning from COSTCO with seventy pounds of detergent. If you ZOOM IN you can see her (behind the bombed out gas station) talking on her cellphone…

I love this place.
Far from the city.
I go there in my boat, tie up at the familiar rock. One doesn't need keys or locks here. Come in, I'll make a cup of tea. Want a cookie with it? Wait, I keep some bonbons in this tin-can under my seat.
Our thoughts, naturally, drift to higher spheres. We discuss the emotional life of beetles, the dietary habits of stars…

Where is everything going in this universe? Well, it's floating by my hut on the river.
If you stay, we drink a few bottles of wine. You can throw the empties right out the window. I'm building an artificial reef , a place for bottle-nosed dolphins…

Filed at Mountains and Water

The whole neighborhood belongs to the Fat Cat. His offspring are past counting, with sons, grandsons (both in the male and female line), and further descendants. The whole brood finds uncommon happiness in a variety of festivals, dramatic performances (with plots of their own invention), eating parties and outrageous drunken bouts.
At the time of the full moon we dare not leave our humble dwellings. Doors are locked and double-bolted. Windows blacked out.

We old ones, loaded down with amulets, charms, and talisman conjure up spirits and raise ghosts. The noise outside becomes unbearable. What are they doing now? Are those the tires from our Mercedes?? But we do not dare look up.
Only an army of jinn could help us now!