Impressionism Lawrence Wirries
Monet, where is your infamous haystack? Flick and the fling of the brush led you astray. Though post in time, you became a modern. Placing thyself under the wings of Hume. Inviting us all to a life of doom. Did you think your impressionist lantern would make us happy when we see blotched hay? Your empirical art took me aback. For if I cannot see form, but only shape, then what is man that I ought appreciate?
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