Gemotions

“Well, that’s that then,” Oliver said, a grin stretching across his face. He tapped his foot impatiently as the solicitor explained the terms of the will. He had inherited his grandfather’s art studio – a haven of creativity and imagination.

He practically skipped through the garden path to the studio, his mind already brimming with ideas. The door creaked open, revealing a sun-drenched space filled with easels, canvases, and paint-splattered palettes. He breathed in the familiar scent of linseed oil and turpentine.

Inside, he found a note. “To my grandson, my wish is for you to paint a portrait of the sky, every single day, for one year.” He rushed to the window, eager to begin.