The row of fuchsia heath flowers was in shadow and flickering sunlight, both dark and glowing, as if under candlelight. The flowers were lined up like quiet servants awaiting orders. The pointed leaves appeared to be carefully arranged, as if each one had a purpose. He thought if he were able to achieve this level of order in his life, he may find each day is easier, but he knew he’d quickly become frustrated by the predictability.

Oil on canvas
50cm x 40cm