What is on the other side of the painting,
the artist's heart their soul trapped beneath and oily soil. Their eyes open to the world yelling out their philosophies through their paintings. I wondered what was behind my painting, the one in the window. The layer of glass and then the outside world. Someplace I could go when the reflection that starred into the glass felt threatened. Maybe it was my soul, maybe a distant twin in a parallel universe. I wanted to know what she thought of me. Inside I wanted to ask her questions. Who she was? How'd she get there? and most of all why was she there and not next to me all the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment