04.05.06

soudainement,

There was a girl there, on the floor of the gallery, examining a paining of Toulouse Lautrec with the most sincerity. Next to he, a small girl with pink cheeks and long dark hair, Asiatic eyes, attended by a concerned red haired woman. . She asks, do you know how to draw? The girl clasps her hands behind her back, shakes her head, no. she smiles, and together their long hair whispers in a brunette fraternity, transmitting smiles, blushes in their movement.
I sat cross-legged on that wooden floor, feeling above me the weight of marbleised ideas, of the statues, of the fire flickering masquerading as tree trunks in the frame in front of me, of the worn lacquered wood below me. My body rested naturally in its grooves, my hands drawing shapes always too large and uncertain, scratching at the paper as if trying to uncover something there through its surface.
What have I found?
Outside the cherry blossoms weep, their long strands heavy with pink blossoms, tiny individual petals which carpet the ponds below like confetti. The sun is deceiving, the wind chills as we step out into the air. They shiver, excited in their travelling clothes, mouths chattering and roaming instinctively in packs.
I try to contain myself. To control my revulsion. To control my excitement as I bound over to these images that have populated my mind for such a long time. Looking at the surfaces, u feel fingers dragged across the canvas, across my skin with intent. The thickly modelled paint hugging my hips. The round firmness of the watercolour rocks pressing against my chest.
Is it for people like me that these ropes were meant?

shi-ou-sama at 1:48 a.m.

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