Freedom flower Painting

Chloe would spend many of her evenings in late August wandering through the flower meadows at dusk. Occasionally disturbing painted ladies in the long grass while watching in anticipation as the emerald damselflies began to dance in the cinnamon dusted light, like flecks of pure gold flirting with the idea of the perfect night. She would always walk bare foot - going no where in particular, just to be in the presence of that honey soaked glow of nourishing light was enough.