A - Little Dash Of The Brush Enature

With a sigh, he uncorked the vial. The scent that hit him was intoxicating—it smelled like his mother’s hair, his first kiss, the ozone before a thunderstorm, and the sorrow of autumn, all rolled into one. He dipped his brush into his standard mix of sap green, then, hesitantly, let a single, crystalline drop of Enature fall onto the bristles.

A Little Dash Of The Brush Enature: The Art of Mindful Beauty A Little Dash Of The Brush Enature

"Dead dust," she scoffed. "Ground bones and crushed stones. It sits heavy. You need something lighter. Something electric." She reached into the deep pocket of her shawl and withdrew a small, glass vial. It contained a liquid that seemed to shift color in the gloom—now violet, now gold, now a deep forest green. With a sigh, he uncorked the vial