Impressions

I'm not big on boasting. I never was. Displaying all my thoughts about my talents in some kind of vain showroom with people gazing or scowling, as if it were some kind of twisted art gallery where I'd give them a tour and say, "Isn't this so delightful? Look at how the lines flow, how the paint's texture really makes the work vivid and lifelike! This artist has creativity... nay... pure genius!" Not exactly my forte. I would rather be the quiet girl in the corner of the gallery, stopping to ponder what the artist was thinking when the abstractions have no pure form, the paint splattered unevenly over the canvas like Jackson Pollock and Picasso's lovechild come to life. There would be no assumptions, just question after tedious question with no true answer, although it was sitting right in front of me, so discrete that only careful scouring and observation could find it hidden between the nongeometric patterns spilling from the canvas. Revelation would see my eyes alight with pleasure and a grin upon my lips, but instead of basking in the glory of my discovery I would stumble out the door, onto the battered sidewalk where the sun would appear upon my face along with a smile kept so long in waiting.

-Lacee Kae