Tuesday, Jul. 07, 2009 - 10:31 p.m.
Forget the last 17 years. We are starting right now.
Camel-hair brush strokes smoothly, lifting off every trace of solemnity and rest.
Eyes forward, she jerks her shoulders in an intense tick.
Doubting the intimacy of her actions, I shifted my shoulders back.
I realize that her actions are a mechanism of her endeavor to paint my portrait.
"Sit up straight" she instructs.
I comply, happily.
It went off and on like this for hours, days. It felt like weeks.
