There is a generation passing away which I already sorely miss. My father's mother, Mary Ellen, was from that generation. She smoked cigarettes, watched soap operas, kept a beautiful and frugal home, read trashy romance novels, cooked wonderfully, loved her grandchildren, dressed with care, and was amazingly, incredibly kind and big-hearted.
Here she is:
Is there someone in your life or in your memories who makes you nostalgic for the coil of fresh cigarette smoke? Or do you just like the misty swirliness of this painting? Either way, you can get a print by clicking this button: