Paintbrush


I saw a fleeting glimpse today, of a man I had met long ago. A painter. It isn’t what you think, there were no colors no muses no life or death wards. There is only that Corner of the old house. We had gone there, a whole gaggle of people, we came to see the old house. Because it was old, it had atmosphere, it had the figments of long bygone imaginations, the scars of thoughtless days, it was not just a dwelling, it had starting breathing life somewhere along the long way

This man was called Insar. I knew him slightly and yet I knew him inside out. He had one of those faces, that you can bookmark, and read at leisure. It was a very nice face indeed, I love faces like that, they are windows to the soul, and transparent souls are the youngest. There is cruelty in youth but also candor, and a shocking vulnerability

I watched Insar as he watched the house. The living breathing growing house. Everyone else ceased to matter, they all saw only stone and wood, people can be so obtuse sometimes. But Insar saw the house alive, and he wanted it. It was there in his eyes, that naked want that all of us tries so hard to hide.

Well me I am very prosaic, even though I rhyme, or maybe because. I don’t live or die on brick and mortar, I prefer the pulse of certified living things. I saw the house, I knew it lived, but I didn’t feel the keening want I saw in his eyes. That made me intensely curious, and somehow dissatisfied. Why did he, why didn’t I? Was I missing some unrequited unhappiness, and so I watched him. As he walked down the magnificent galleria, slightly redolent of Catholic or the Sistine Chapel. Turns out the owner of the house had massive pretensions, or merely good taste. Its getting so hard to tell these days

The house had the Corner, that office we all fight for, that seat everyone rushes first at. The Corner he saw and decided to make his. Why a corner, because corners are closed on two sides. Everyone was looking for corners, mostly to cut, but he looked for the one to live in. Therefore he won his Corner, need before beauty

And I watched Insar as his hand stole out to touch the cold wall, the edge of a painting, trailing, caressing, gently loving the corner, the galleria, the house. He then picked up a flat swathe of a paintbrush, and chose a color to paint the galleria, at random, apparently. And he painted himself into the Corner. Carefully, slowly, with love, it is a privilege to be in the presence of love, of any kind, thats why so much human perversion is discreetly forgiven. So I watched, as did everyone else on the tour.

Then the whole galleria as far as Insar’s hand could reach, was blue or maybe brown, its hard to tell, I’ve been color blind since the great fire of 1993. And he was in his Corner, waiting for the paint to dry, then to peel and then to crack. The gaggle of curiosity got bored and left only to watch for sudden moves from time to time. When the paint had finally cracked beyond repair, he took up the paintbrush and started again, with another color, as far as I could tell

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2 Responses

  1. there is an illusion of reality here, like a piece of abstract art…

    some notable lines for me:

    “Because it was old, it had atmosphere, it had the figments of long bygone imaginations, the scars of thoughtless days, it was not just a dwelling, it had starting breathing life somewhere along the long way”

    “He had one of those faces, that you can bookmark, and read at leisure,”

    “Turns out the owner of the house had massive pretensions, or merely good taste. Its getting so hard to tell these days,”

    “When the paint had finally cracked beyond repair, he took up the paintbrush and started again, with another color, as far as I could tell”

    way to mosey up to the langauge!

    ~MM – Thanks a lot Chico, illusion of reality, abstract art, woo, I love that :)!

  2. Wow..this piece felt really special to me..and you know I am into energies.

    Something about these words really intrigued me:
    “Why a corner, because corners are closed on two sides. Everyone was looking for corners, mostly to cut, but he looked for the one to live in. Therefore he won his Corner, need before beauty”
    I think I may be a corner person, at times.

    Thank you for sharing your writings…keep creating!

    ~MM – Thanks Gypsy Heart!! Glad you felt this way, more power to you!!

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