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August 10, 2012

She was staring blankly through the glass wall when the cold drizzle drove him into the cafe. He caught a few  scattered words on her weakly beaming laptop as he made his way to the counter.  Momentarily, hot coffee in hand he sat down next to her.

Short wispy ochre  hair,   pursed carmine lips. A silhouette as if permanently pinned in place. Two-dimensional.

” I want to paint you”.

She turned towards him. A lazy scrutiny.

Grey, they were grey  like slate.

Then grudgingly:  “Okay”  ,  trailing into something like  a question.

He took another gulp of  coffee without taking his eyes off   hers,  then slid off his stool.

She shut her laptop and gathered her belongings  gingerly, as if each  movement  was something  recently learned.

Two blocks later  he was closing the door  to his studio.

Turning around he saw that she had already taken off her blouse and was pulling a leg out of her jeans. Next to her was a growing pile of clothes on top of her bag.  An island in a sea of paint-flecked wood.

Through the large windows  he noticed  it had stopped drizzling.





(some recent drawings)

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