I told her that I wanted to paint him.
Paint him, draw him, sketch him.
I had never seen anyone so beautiful before, in my life.
I had always wanted to draw; the kind of wanting that was wistful longing, the kind that you feel when you see Monet’s “Woman With a Parasol” or Cot’s “The Storm”.
By: Pierre Auguste Cot
You stare at the masterpiece, desiring that talent, while simultaneously knowing you do not possess it, and even if you took a class and learned the technique, you would not paint that way, for the gift must be born within you.
But I saw him,
And I wanted to paint him, draw him, sketch him.
I think it is inside of me.
I think it was a seed God planted that was quietly germinating, and love brought it to birth.
“Princess Bride” Love.
“As You Wish.” Love.
The gift is in my hands.
I feel it.
Its presence resonates in my fingers, more a part of them than their ten unique prints.
Fueled with every heartbeat.
Fueled by each memory.
It is alive and courses through me.
And now I know.
I know why the Mona Lisa is so beautiful.
Love was in the Painter.