Her art teacher had said to pick something, and focus on it, letting the rest of the painting fade into the background.
The early morning sunlight shone over the park, casting a golden light on everything.
All the trees had already turned color, they shone golden brown in the morning sunlight, and now and then the leaves would just barely shift in the wind, and the brown leaves fell to the ground, high lighted by the occasional red or yellow leaf.
Fisher men were down by the lake, trying to get a good catch before winter set in and the lake froze over.
Joggers, dressed warmly in sweats and jackets, ran the gravel paths, there breath showing in the crisp fall air.
That was Clara's favorite part of fall, the people. They seemed to become nicer as the cold air set in, always smiling.
She finally decided on something, the big oak tree.
She picked up her paint brush and began working on the back ground.
"Even strokes." She reminded herself quietly.
She went into that magical trance she had when she was painting, remembering to add in dear ails later, to add shadows, to choose the correct brush for different strokes.
The whole world blurred, the painting was the only thing she could see clearly, the vibrant colors of fall saving itself in her mind forever.
The painting seemed to come to life, the ducks flying in the air began to move, the branches of the oak tree shook in the wind. This was one of her best pieces of work.
The people in her picture were smiling, full of hope and joy. The fisher man was reeling in a fish, the jogger smiled as if she had best her previous record.
As she made the last few strokes, she smiled, looking at her picture, then at the real thing. Sadly, the real this wasn't quite as happy. The man reading was a homeless man, the jogger was rubbing her ankle, the fisherman still hadn't gotten a bite.
That gave her an idea on what to call it. In the bottom right corner, she put her name, and the title 'What Could Be'
ns 15.158.61.20da2
